Harry Potter and the 11th Commandment
by The Helios Spirit
Summary: 5th Year AU - "There are those who believe that we should obey the 10 Commandments. But as our names suggest, Mr. Potter, Ms. Greengrass, we decide to follow an 11th commandment: Thou Shalt Not Speak. You have piqued our interest. We will be watching." The Dementors weren't the only ones to show up that day. NOTE: This story is not about religion or religious circumstances.
1. Mysterious Circumstances

**Well, to those who follow my other stories, you now know why I haven't updated Rites of Blood. I didn't actually know much of the Harry Potter Universe to begin with, so I had to do a lot of research. This story is also planned from start to beginning, which will hopefully quell down any loss of inspiration.**

**To my new readers, welcome to my realm! **

**And to all, both new and old, I say to you the following: ****This story is not about religion or religious circumstances!**** So as the great Albus Dumbledore once said: Tuck in!**

**Let it commence! I give you…**

**Year 5, HARRY POTTER AND THE THIRTEENTH COMMANDMENT**

Chapter 1

The hottest day of the summer was making its approach as the sun slowly appeared in the sky. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive seldom exited the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide open in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person outdoors was a teenage boy who was sneaking out the front door of number four.

He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short amount of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. The only thing that looked in good conditions was his green jumper that had a dragon stitched on the front. Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him to the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as nobody was out and about at the time, he was quite safe from prying eyes.

Looking in both directions, he set off at a jog along the street. It was a healthy habit that he had cultivated since the events of the previous school year; as perilous and disastrous the Triwizard Tournament had been, Harry had decided to take advantage as much as he could. And he had been rewarded. Gone was the short and thin midget that used to roam the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, replaced by a tall teenager with a wiry frame to the point that his cousin's hand-me-downs fit him much better than in previous years. By the end of the year, he had been getting speculative looks by members of the female population at Hogwarts, though Harry figured that that was due to the events of the third task.

Harry shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts; it was bad enough that he was revisiting the graveyard in his dreams, so there was no need to dwell on them during the day. Instead, he would focus on the future and prepare himself for the war that the wizarding world had decided to ignore.

An internal scoff made its appearance as he ran. Ever since he had reappeared in the maze announcing Lord Voldemort's return, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, had immediately taken action and had warned the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, but the Minister had been adamant – Voldemort could not have returned, he was gone, and Dumbledore must be mad if he was listening to the ravings of a teenage wizard celebrity. If Fudge had his way, he would have committed both Harry and Dumbledore to the wizarding equivalent of a muggle psychiatric ward. If such a thing existed; knowing wizarding logic, there probably wasn't.

"Oi, freak!"

Harry frowned. He could easily recognize that voice anywhere, but that begged the question: what was Dudley Dursley, local whale (and unfortunately, his cousin) of Privet Drive doing up so early?

"Mum said that you were cooking breakfast!"

Ah, there it was. Harry smirked and kept running, ignoring his cousin's shouts for him to return to the house and, "do what Dad told you to do!" Pff, Aragog the talking Achromantula would be more inclined, though in that case the Dursleys would have ended up being the breakfast.

Now _there_ was a thought…

Harry shook his head in amusement. Really, by this point he could have scripted the entire morning: he sneaks out to run, on his second lap of the neighborhood his cousin comes out and complains about the lack of breakfast (it was true that he would do it in the past, but nowadays his Aunt Petunia was doing it), Harry would ignore him and finish his laps, and finally get yelled at by his Uncle – if Dudley was a killer whale, Vernon was a blue whale – when he would come back in. Today was no different: in fact, by the time Vernon was finished, he really _was_ blue in the face.

Harry rolled his eyes as he showered – really, what did his Uncle think he would gain?

By now, it was near noon, and Harry was getting decidedly hungry for food that he would probably not get. So instead of heading downstairs after getting dressed, he merely laid down on the ground near his bed and extracted some food from his hidden stores under the loose floorboard. While it was true that Dudley was no longer following his diet (while still as vast as ever, his diet had had the surprising result of bringing quite a change to his physique), Harry had decided to owl his friends for help in case he was 'accidentally' poisoned by his Aunt's cooking. And they had come through: the Weasley Matriarch had sent him a cooler that was charmed to fit perfectly in the space under the loose floorboard as well as preserve indefinitely whatever was stored inside, and Hermione Granger was sending him foods more related to the exercise regime he was following.

Apparently, protein bars didn't exactly exist in the Wizarding world, and Nutrient potions were expensive and had the disadvantage of being addictive. While Hermione's parents were dentists, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that they were the more reliable source when it came to healthy diets.

Just then, three taps sounded through the room, and Harry whirled in the direction of the window. A noble Eagle owl was perched on his windowsill, and he frowned at the sight. While he was familiar with this particular owl, the fact that the owner was sending him a letter spelled bad news, especially during these times.

He opened the window, letting the owl in. The noble animal did not waste any time and flew over to his own owl's perch. Hedwig, who had been asleep until now, seemed to accept this, which was more than what the Snowy Owl would do to other owls in the past. The Eagle Owl stuck out its leg then, allowing Harry to untie the letter from the limb. As soon as it was free from its burden, the Eagle Owl turned to Hedwig, preneed her feathers slightly (something that made Harry raise his eyebrow slightly), and flew out the open window.

Shaking his head, he unrolled the letter, reading the four sentences quickly.

_The Dark Lord has made his move. A servant has instructed two Dementors to attack your home. I will be sending a courier in need of your help as well. Take care of her. Be at the nearby park to receive her once you are alone. Do not worry about the guard – he will find himself occupied at your guest's arrival._

_N_

Well… that couldn't be good. His contact had never lied to him in the past – she never had a reason to do so. While he didn't doubt that Voldemort would send Dementors, he was confused as to the second part. His contact didn't mention who this courier was, but the letter was clear that they were female. Why was she sending him a girl, and why did she need his help? Perhaps they had gotten on Voldemort's bad side somehow…

Frowning, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, pondering the problem he had been presented with. The Dementors presented themselves as the elephant in the room, so to speak. He knew that he would have to break the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery to defend himself against the Dementors, and in the Ministry's current state of denial, his claims of the creatures in Surrey would probably be scoffed at. Fudge would only use the breaking of the Decree as an excuse to get him expelled from Hogwarts and have his wand snapped.

A letter to Dumbledore was out of the question as well, as in that case he would be faced with questions pertaining his contact. Harry would tell his godfather about his contact, but that was only because Sirius was the only person that his contact trusted in the first place. No, he would have to pretend to be ignorant of the events, especially about his 'guest's' arrival, and Harry was not exactly known for his skills in acting. And while Dumbledore should know about the unknown girl, it was not worth risking his source of information from inside Voldemort's circle.

Well, in that case there was only one thing to do. Harry moved around the room, starting to pack and get ready. There was no doubt that he would probably be picked up after the Dementor attack for his 'safety' and be transported away from Number Four. His guest would have to come with them as well.

He extracted his cooler from under the loose floorboard, packing it into his trunk along with his books and cauldron – the cauldron was filled with his folded clothes to maximize space. Then there was the box of trophies…

His hands moved by their own accord as they lifted the box from the bottom his trunk. It was made out of oak, the Potter Family crest (A Griffin with its wings spread for flight and an elegant _P_ between the wings) engraved on the lid. There was no visible keyhole or latch, but a tap on the lid with his wand opened it with a _click!_ He lifted the lid, gazing on the items within: a vial filled with a blood-red liquid and a rock shard inside, a six-inch long fang, and a golden hourglass. Each was hard-won.

The shard from the Philosopher's Stone from his first year was still useful – Dumbledore himself had said that it was only enough for one use of Elixir of Life, to save anyone from certain death, perhaps even bring someone back to life. Harry had put the shard inside the vial at Dumbledore's suggestion, filling it with water after the Headmaster had placed an Unbreakable charm on the glass. The next day, the water had gone from crystal-clear to blood red – The Elixir of Life. It was barely more than a cupful, but it would be enough to save a life.

"_Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."_

"_NEVER!"_

Harry winced, remembering the pain he had suffered from Quirrell's touch. In the scuffle, the Voldemort-possessed Quirrell had lunged at him, tackling him to the floor, and part of the Stone had cracked off when he had landed on his side. He hadn't discovered the shard until Dumbledore had spoken to him afterwards.

Of all the objects in the box, the Basilisk Fang was the most dangerous one, an opinion that was well-warranted. Like the Shard, the venom sack inside only had enough for one use. It was ironic, really – the Shard would heal, but the Fang would kill, and both only had one use.

"_You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."_

Harry turned his eyes to the final item inside the box – Hermione's Time-Turner from his third year. Unlike the other two items, it did not have just the one use, and it was still quite useful. Still, he hadn't used it since he and Hermione had used it to save Sirius from the Dementors and help him escape.

"_That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in."_

A few days later, he had gotten a package through the muggle mail from Hermione. The nondescript carton box contained the golden magical hourglass and a letter from his friend, explaining her reasons.

"…_Professor McGonagall sent it back to the Ministry, but I got a letter from an Unspeakable with the Time-Turner inside. Apparently someone was vouching for me, and they said I could keep it! An Unspeakable, Harry! They work in the Department of Mysteries; I wonder what else they have down there… Still, I wasn't lying to you and Ron when I said I didn't want it. Maybe you can find some sort of use for it. Consider it an early birthday gift."_

Shaking his head from the memories, he closed the box once more and buried it once more at the bottom of his trunk. After he finished packing, he organized the things he was leaving for his trip: his Cloak of Invisibility, his wand, and his broom. He grabbed the broom, a 1993 Firebolt, and started polishing it and giving it general maintenance, just for something to do. After all, he had no idea when the Dementors or his guest were due to arrive.

Unfortunately, he was chased out of the room by an unbeatable foe: the heat of summer. In the end, he put his broom back near the trunk, picked up his wand and Cloak, and walked out of his room. Perhaps he could eavesdrop on the news while his Uncle watched the telly…

As he was going down the stairs, several things happened in a very quick succession. A loud, echoing _crack_ broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot; through an open window he saw a cat streak out from under a parked car and fly out of sight; a shriek, a bellowed oath, and the sound of breaking china came from the Dursleys' living room, and as though Harry had been waiting for it, he ran to the open front door, at the same time pulling his wand from the waistband of his jeans. But in his haste of running down the stairs he tripped, falling and hitting his head against the banister, and the resultant crash made Aunt Petunia scream even louder.

Harry felt as if his head had been split in two; eyes streaming, he swayed, trying to focus on his path to the front door. He tried to aim, but found himself hampered by a purple walrus that was so ugly he recoiled in shock-

Until he realized that it was his Uncle, and that he was reaching for his neck with fury in his eyes. Harry jumped back immediately; while he wasn't at risk per se, Harry Potter was no fool – he knew when to back away when it came to his Uncle. And in this state, it was possible that his wand could be broken if a scuffle were to ensue, a result that he most definitely did not want to experience.

Unfortunately, he was too slow, and two large purple hands reached their objective and closed tightly around his throat.

"_Put – it – away!"_ Uncle Vernon snarled at Harry, "_Now! Before – anyone – sees!_"

"Get – off – me!" Harry gasped; for a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncle's sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wand. Then, as the pain in the front of Harry's head gave a particularly nasty throb-

_Zap!_

Uncle Vernon yelped in surprised pain and released Harry as though he had received an electric shock – some invisible force seemed to have surged through his nephew, making him impossible to hold.

Panting, Harry fell to his knees, straightened up, and stared around. There was no sign of whatever had caused the loud cracking noise, but through the doorway he could see several faces peering through various windows across the street. Harry stuffed his wand back into his jeans and tried to look innocent.

"Lovely evening!" shouted Aunt Petunia through a window, waving at Mrs. Number Seven, who was glaring from behind her net curtains. "Did you hear that car backfire just now? Gave Vernon and me quite a turn!"

She continued to smile in a horrible, manic way until all the curious neighbors had disappeared from their various windows, then the smile turned into a grimace of rage as she stalked towards Harry.

"What the _devil_ do you mean by it, boy?" asked Uncle Vernon in a croaky voice that trembled with fury.

"What do I mean by what?" said Harry coldly. He kept looking over his Uncle's shoulder at the street, still hoping to see the person who had made the cracking noise.

"Making a racket like a starting pistol right outside our-"

"I didn't make that noise," said Harry firmly.

Aunt Petunia's thin, horsy face now appeared beside Uncle Vernon's wide, purple one. She looked livid.

"Why were you coming down the stairs?"

"Yes – yes, good point, Petunia! _What were you doing coming down those stairs with your – stick – out, boy?_"

He was sorely tempted to burst out laughing by the accidental pun his Uncle had just made, but instead Harry answered with a resigned, "I was going to listen to the news."

His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage.

"Listening to the news! _Again?_"

"Well, it changes every day, you see," said Harry.

And so it went, with his relatives proclaiming that _his lot_ never made appearances in muggle news, that what were all those owls doing if they weren't bringing him any news. Harry hesitated for a moment before answering.

"The owls… aren't bringing me any news," said Harry tonelessly.

"I don't believe it," said Aunt Petunia at once.

"No more do I," said Uncle Vernon forcefully.

"We know you're up to something funny," said Aunt Petunia.

"We're not stupid, you know," said Uncle Vernon.

"Well, _that's_ news to me," said Harry, his temper rising, and before the Dursleys could say anything else, he forced himself past them and slung his Cloak over himself, resulting in a squeak of fright from Aunt Petunia and sputtering from his Uncle. A few moments later he had crossed the front lawn, stepped over the low garden wall, and was striding off up the street.

Sure, when he returned he would be in trouble, but really, what did he care? He had more pressing matters on his mind after all. He was sure that the sound had been made by someone apparating; it was the sound that Dobby the house-elf made when he appeared or disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Perhaps it was his guard being summoned by his contact – was this what they meant when they mentioned he or she would be occupied at the time? Or was it his guest arriving beforehand? Harry turned around under his Cloak, casting his gaze up and down Privet Drive, trying to catch a glimpse of any new arrivals, but it appeared to be completely deserted again.

After removing his Cloak of Invisibility in an empty alley Harry did not pay much attention as to where he was walking; he walked the same route every day to escape the confines of Number Four, so he knew quite well where he was going. Every few steps he looked over his shoulder. Someone magical had been posted near his home, he was sure of it; the letter had confirmed it after all. Why hadn't they made contact before, or spoken to him? They had been detected already after all…

_Perhaps_, Harry mused, _it wasn't the sound of apparition. Perhaps it was like Aunt Petunia said, perhaps it was just a car backfiring nearby…_

Was he being paranoid? Was he so desperate for the tiniest sign of contact from the world to which he belonged that he was simply overreacting to perfectly ordinary noises? Could he be _sure_ it hadn't been the sound of something breaking inside a neighbor's house?

Yes, yes he could, because the letter _confirmed_ the presence of someone guarding him, even if he himself hadn't known it. Someone had made sure that his guard wasn't going to be there when his guest arrived, which meant that he had to be at the park waiting until she arrived.

Others might have complained of having to wait for someone, but not Harry. For one thing, his isolation was not his fault, and as a result he was happy to be doing something for once. Nowadays he ended up throwing the _Daily Prophet_ as soon as he glanced at the headlines; if the press found out about Voldemort's return, Harry was sure that it would be on the front page.

Perhaps tomorrow he would be lucky and there would be owls bearing messages from his friends, though any expectation he had had about their letters bearing any semblance of news was long dead.

"_We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously…" "We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray…" "We're quite busy but I can't give you details here…" "There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you…"_

_If they can't say anything, why don't they stop alluding it for once?_ Harry thought,_ The suspense is going to drive me mad!_

Still, there was always something to be gleaned from their letters by reading between the lines. From what he had read, Hermione and Ron were writing from the same place, presumably at Ron's parents' house, and they were expecting to see him soon; Hermione had even written so inside his birthday card. Still, the thought of them having fun at the Burrow while he was stuck at Number Four irritated him to the point of him almost throwing away the packages of Honeydukes chocolates they had sent him for his birthday; thank goodness he hadn't, as that night the only thing there had been for dinner was a wilting salad.

Well, for once he was the one keeping the secrets. After all, he should be the one busy, not them – hadn't he proved himself capable of handling more than they? Had they all forgotten that it had been him, not them, that had been in the graveyard that night? That it had been _he_ who had watched Cedric being murdered and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed…?

Harry shook his head; he shouldn't think about that. It was bad enough that he revisited the graveyard in his nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too.

He turned a corner into Magnolia Crescent; halfway along he passed the narrow alleyway down the side of a garage where he had first clapped eyes on his godfather. Sirius, at least, seemed to understand how Harry was feeling; admittedly his letters were just as empty of valid news as Ron's and Hermione's were, but at least his bore words of caution and consolation instead of tantalizing hints.

And so far, he had listened: he had kept his head down, hadn't done anything rash, and had stayed out of trouble for the whole duration of the summer. Until now. Although, Harry thought as he crossed Magnolia Crescent, turned into Magnolia Road, and headed toward the darkening play park, there were times in which he thought about tying his trunk to his broomstick and setting off to the Burrow on his own. Nevertheless, it was quite galling to be told not to be rash by a man who had served twelve years in the wizard prison, Azkaban, escaped, attempted to commit the murder he had been convicted for in the first place, and then gone on the run with a stolen hippogriff…

Harry vaulted over the locked park gate and walked over to the swings, settling himself in the only one that Dudley and his friends hadn't managed to break yet. If he wasn't picked up tonight, he would have to find a way to listen to the news… perhaps the flowerbed under the Dursleys' living room window? In the meantime, the only thing to look forward to was the arrival of his guest. At that moment Harry realized that he had forgotten to tell his relatives. Well, he would burn that bridge when he got to it.

He scratched absentmindedly at his scar. Whereas before his scar hurting meant that Voldemort was becoming stronger, ever since his return it had prickled uncomfortably every now and then, especially during the mornings after having nightmares of long dark corridors, all finishing with dead ends and locked doors. It was only to be expected after all… old news…

The injustice of the whole situation welled up inside of him until he wanted to scream at the sky with fury. If it hadn't been for him, nobody would have ever known about the Dark Lord's return! And what did he get in return? A pat on the back for bringing Cedric's body to his parents so that they could bury him and a sentence of four solid weeks being stuck in Little Whinging, completely cut off from the magical world, reduced to the future possibility of squatting in wilting flowerbeds so that he could hear about water-skiing budgerigars or whatever the muggles came up with in their spare time!

How could Dumbledore have forgotten about him already? Why had Hermione and Ron gotten together without him? How much longer was he supposed to endure this exile? How much longer would he have to listen to Sirius telling him to be a good boy and lay low, while fighting the temptation of grabbing ink and parchment and writing to the Daily Prophet that Voldemort had returned?

Harry took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He frowned before chuckling at his own antics. Since when was he so needy for attention? While it was true that his situation was a bit… frustrating to say the least, it did not warrant such childish behavior from him – tantrums like the one he had just had were made by his cousin, not him.

_And speak of the devil…_ Harry thought. By now night had fallen, and the streetlamps from the surrounding roads were casting a misty glow strong enough to illuminate a group of teenagers making their way towards the park. One of them was singing a loud, crude song while the others laughed at the offensive rhymes. The figure that was leading them was unmistakably his cousin, Dudley Dursley, wending his way home.

Idly, Harry wondered who they had been beating up tonight. Ever since Dudley's change in his physique, he had discovered a new talent: Boxing. Vernon was delightedly telling everyone who would listen that he had become the local boxing champion. Nowadays, all the neighborhood children were scared of him, even more terrified that they were of "that Potter boy," who, they had been warned, was a hardened hooligan who attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurable Criminal Boys.

At least, that was the image Harry had carried until he started doing yard work for the neighbors and being polite to everyone. Now the neighbors waved to him in the streets (even though they gave his clothes disapproving gazes) while the girls seemed to be torn in between ogling the massive athletic build of his cousin or the "tall-dark-and-handsome" (he had nearly choked when he had overheard two girls gossiping nearby) look he was managing nowadays.

It was quite the ego boost when he noticed that they seemed to like him more than Dudley.

As much as Harry wanted to vent his frustration at some of the boys that had made his life at Privet Drive hell, he knew that the idea was not wise. After all, Dudley was terrified of his magic, so it would be funny to taunt him and watch him as he struggled with his indecision. Still, what if he or one of his friends were to actually rise to the challenge? Sure, he had his wand, but he would also be facing certain expulsion… and if his contact wasn't lying, he'd also have that on top of the Patronus Charm.

No, he would not bait them tonight.

Before long, Dudley's gang's voices died, and they were out of sight as they headed down Magnolia Road. Harry was both proud and resigned of the fact that he had been able to quell the desire to call out at them; Sirius would be both proud of his restraint but itching to call at them himself.

But that wasn't what was at the forefront of his mind. His relatives seemed to feel that whenever Dudley turned up was the right time to be back home, and that anytime later would be much too late. If it had been any other day, Harry would follow the gang just out of sight, cut across a few back alleys, and be back home in time for dinner.

He would have to break the rule today.

_Crack!_

Harry spun around, drawing his wand, lost his footing in the process but managed to stay upright-

And found himself looking into the most beautiful cerulean eyes he had ever seen.

That was the first thing he noticed.

The second was the chunk of flesh that was missing from her right leg.

The girl blinked, as if surprised to see him, said "Help me," and collapsed in a dead faint.

Fortunately, he managed to dive forward in time and catch her before she hit the ground, and as she laid there in his arms, he took a moment to observe her for the first time. She looked to be around fifteen years old, with cream colored skin and black hair so dark framing her face that it looked purple in the light of the setting sun. Her lips were thin yet full, and her nose was thin and petite, just like the rest of her. Harry shamelessly let his eyes roam the girl's body until they focused on the hole on her leg.

It was a strange looking wound. Her jeans, skin, muscle, bone - it was all gone, not torn but cleanly scooped away, like a spoonful from a bowl of ice cream. Harry had done some research on his scar, and he knew enough about cursed wounds to know that this wasn't caused by a spell, but rather by apparition – she had Splinched herself, meaning that she had left part of herself behind.

Harry immediately took off his sweater and balled it up, but when he used it to apply pressure to the wound he could not see, the girl stirred with a whimper but didn't wake. He didn't lessen the pressure, however, instead choosing to use the sweater's arms to tie it around her leg. With a bit more difficulty, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak, threw it over both of them, and cradled her in his arms, setting off for Privet Drive as fast as he could.

He was trotting down Magnolia Road quickly, so halfway along Dudley's gang came back into view again; they were saying their goodbyes at the corner of Magnolia Crescent. Harry cursed quietly, but slowed down nonetheless; while he was in no danger of being seen by any of the teens, the Cloak did not muffle the sound of his footsteps.

He was crossing the corner when the gang dispersed, and Dudley headed down Magnolia Crescent, humming tunelessly to himself. When he was sure that the rest of the gang members were out of sight, he got an idea; for he, unfortunately, was not as fit for lifting as his cousin was.

"Dudley!"  
…

It took a while, but he finally managed to enlist Dudley's help in carrying the girl. At first he had forgotten that Dudley couldn't see him because of the Cloak and had nearly given the teen a heart attack. Thankfully, even Dudley wasn't heartless enough to let someone bleed to death, whether or not they were a witch.

They carried her between the two of them, the Cloak once more in Harry's pocket. After all, night had fallen already and by now everyone had curtained their windows, so there was no risk of being seen by anyone.

"So… who is she?" asked Dudley as they turned into an alley halfway down Magnolia Crescent. The alley would cut through all the way to Wisteria Walk, and from there Privet Drive was just around the corner.

"No idea," panted Harry, "I was sitting at the playground back there… when she just appeared. Out of thin air."

"One of your lot, then?"

"Obviously. It's called Apparition, what she did," said Harry, "It's sort of like teleportation… I've seen others do it, but I've never done it myself."

Dudley eyes widened, "Wicked."

Harry was surprised; usually Dudley would regard anything magical with fear or apprehension… not admiration of all things.

This day was getting weirder and weirder.

Suddenly, Dudley gasped as if drenched in cold water. Something had happened to the night. The previously star-speckled night was suddenly pitch-black and lightless – the moon, the stars, the misty streetlights at the end of the alley had suddenly vanished. The distant grumble of cars and the whisper of the wind passing through the trees had gone as well, and the balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold.

Harry gulped, feeling his face pale as he started to shiver, casting his sightless eyes left and right. He would hear them before he saw them…

"Harry?" Dudley whimpered.

There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread and fear as he, Dudley, and the girl stood trembling in the freezing air.

"They're here," said Harry, "The Dementors of Azkaban are here."


	2. Dementors, Death Eaters, and Daphne

Chapter 2 – Dementors, Death Eaters, and Daphne Greengrass

"_Lumos Maxima!_"

As he pointed his wand towards the pitch-black sky, a ball of white light erupted from his wand, hovering over the three of them and illuminating their surroundings.

And immediately, Harry wished that he had never lit up the light.

_There so many of them…_ There were at least ten Dementors blocking their way to Wisteria Walk, and upon a glance behind them, there were just as many at their backs as well. The rattling breaths above them notified of the Dementors' presence on the roofs as well.

They were trapped.

"So many…"

Harry glanced at the girl, who he had failed to notice had woken during their stop. In the bright white light, her hair looked as dark as the sky, and her skin as pale as a vampire's. Harry did not know if this was due to the blood loss, or because of fear.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "We're not entirely defenseless."

"Harry?" asked Dudley, "What's going on?"

"Dementors… more than I've seen in one place at a time…"

"Dementors?"

"Can't you see them?" asked Harry, "They're right there…"

"He can't see them," said the girl, "He's a muggle. Only wizards and witches can see magical creatures." She shuddered in their grip, "I was told I would be safe…"

"We will," Harry assured her.

The girl glared at him, "Oh, really? Can you cast the Patronus charm then? Will you be able to stop them when they attack?"

As if they had been waiting for it, one of the Dementors started to glide forwards towards them. Instantly, Harry's wand was pointed towards it as he stepped forward to meet it.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the end of his wand and the dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; the dementor kept coming as he tried to scramble back, panic fogging his brain – _concentrate –_

A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the dementor's robes, reaching for him, and a rushing noise filled Harry's ears. Behind him, he heard the girl yelp and he glanced back – Dudley had fainted, and without his support, the girl had fallen to the ground as well.

_I've failed,_ he thought, _I've failed… they'll be dead because of me…_

He would not let them die.

_Think… happy thoughts…_ But he couldn't, there were no happy thoughts, he would never be happy again, despair ruled him… Maniacal laughter reverberated in his mind, as Voldemort's voice seemed to whisper in his head, "_Bow to death Harry… It might even be painless… _

"_Expecto… expecto…_"

He would never see Ron or Hermione again-

And suddenly, their faces burst into his mind as he fought for breath.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

A silver stag erupted from his wand, goring the Dementor right where the heart would be on a human, and the dementor glided away, defeated.

"_Harry!_"

He whirled. With their companions' defeat, the rest of the creatures started to glide forward as well. He pointed with his wand, and his Patronus followed standing protectively over Dudley and the girl, keeping the foul creatures at bay.

Harry tried to summon another Patronus. Professor Lupin had mentioned something like that during their lessons two years previous, he remembered, but he didn't recall the man teaching him how to summon multiple Patroni. Still, it didn't hurt to try.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

On his command, another ethereal stag shimmered into existence and joined its brother in protecting the three teens. By now, Harry was starting to tire – hopefully, the girl could summon her own Patronus and help repel the dementors. Meanwhile, he turned to his cousin.

"_Rennervate!_"

As soon as the jet of light hit him, Dudley opened his eyes, glancing around in fear.

"What was…?"

"The dementors. I've managed to hold them off for now, but we need to keep moving. Can you walk?"

Dudley nodded, immediately standing and brushing himself off. He didn't look at the Stag Patroni, probably because he couldn't see them, but in the end, it didn't matter did it?

Once Dudley was on his feet, Harry turned to the girl with a grin (what was he doing?), "I do believe that if the circumstances had been different, our first meeting would have begun with, 'Hello, I'm Harry Potter, and you are?' What do you think?"

Forward, much?

Her jaw dropped in surprise before she composed herself and her eyes narrowed in a fearsome glare, "I do believe that I would have answered with a statement very akin to, 'Leaving.'" Suddenly, a very coy smile graced her features, and she continued, "However, as you have said, these are not the usual circumstances, and so I shall grace you with a very simple, 'Charmed to meet you, Mr. Potter. I am Madame Daphne Greengrass.'" At this, she held out her hand towards him.

Apparently, forward was good.

Harry blinked in surprised recognition at the name, but nevertheless kept the game going by taking her offered hand, bowing, and kissing her knuckles with a wink, "The honour, I assure you, is mine." He was rewarded with a blush-and-shy-smile combo as she pulled her hand away. It suited her, he believed.

Sirius would be proud.

"If you two are done flirting, why don't we pick ourselves up and get out of here?"

Harry blinked, before standing once more, "Right. Same arrangement as before, then. Can you cast a Patronus, Daphne?"

Daphne frowned before raising her wand, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Nothing.

Daphne sighed with an apologetic expression, "Sorry."

Harry smiled, "It's alright, it took me around six months to master the charm. Prongs will be able to hold them off until we get to Number 4."

Once Daphne had been secured around them, they set off faster than before, since they weren't just dragging her anymore. Prongs (both of them) set off as well, one in front and one behind them, warring away the dementors' despair and keeping them safe. None of the three said a word.

The dementors followed them all the way to Privet Drive. Once they turned into the street, the dark creatures seemed to hit a barrier, and seconds later, it was just Harry, Daphne, and Dudley on the empty street while around them, the night returned to life: streetlights flickered on, the stars and moon made a reappearance, and sounds filled the night. As if waiting for the creatures' departure, Harry's stag Patroni bowed their head to the three teenagers and disappeared as well. Harry and Daphne shared a look as they continued on their way, while Dudley looked around as everything returned to normal.

"Why do you think they left?" asked Daphne as they passed Number 8. She was pale, Harry noticed, and she seemed to speak with a slight slur now. _She needs her wound healed, and soon._

Harry frowned, "I don't know. Maybe they just got tired?"

She shook her head, "Dementors are relentless. They never stop searching for their prey, especially when it's promised to them without consequence. Why do you think they were posted around Hogwarts two years ago when Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban?"

Dudley gasped, "Black was a… a you-know-what?"

"A what? Wait, how does he know about Sirius Black?" asked Daphne.

"He means a wizard," said Harry, "And yes, Dudley, he is a wizard. And muggles were informed of his escape by the Prime Minister. No breaking of the Statute of Secrecy. We're almost- DUCK!"

Dudley did so, dragging Greengrass with him as Harry threw himself out of the way of a red jet of light. Across the street, Harry saw a man with a silver hand emerge from between Numbers 5 and 3 before shrinking into a brown ball of fur – Wormtail.

With a snarl, Harry raised his wand to curse Pettigrew – but was forced to conjure a shield to block another jet of light aimed at Daphne.

"DUDLEY! TAKE GREENGRASS AND GET TO THE HOUSE!"

Thunder rolled as Dudley grabbed the protesting girl, slinging her over his shoulder and sprinting to Number 4 – who knew that he could display such a Gryffindor tendency? Harry hadn't noticed, as he was too busy focusing on the two Death Eaters emerging from Wisteria Walk. Harry raised his wand.

"_Expelliarmus! Incarcerous! Stupefy!_" His disarming charm was blocked, but the Incarcerating Jinx was only partially blocked and managed to trip one of the Death Eaters, who succumbed to the Stunner. His companion didn't even glance at him as he stepped forward.

"_Reducto!_" cast the Death Eater.

"_Protego! Flippendo!_" responded Harry.

The Death Eater sidestepped the Bludgeoner, responding with a yelled, "_Crucio!_"

Harry threw himself out of the way of the Unforgivable and rolled behind the fence of Number 6 – no shield could block it. Once he was behind cover, he thought of his next move – and out of nowhere, he remembered a move from one of Dudley's old video games as the first rain of summer started to fall.

He stuck his wand out from behind cover.

"_Lumos Maxima!_"

He chanced a glance, and realizing that the Death Eater was truly blinded, he cast another trio of Disarming, Incarcerating and Stunning spells at the Death Eater, who fell to the ground, defeated.

Harry blinked. He actually didn't think that he would-

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Harry's wand was wrenched from his grasp, and he whirled – he had forgotten the rat Animagus, who was now standing between him and Number; between him and salvation.

"I'm truly sorry, Harry," wheezed Wormtail as he caught Harry's wand with his silver hand, "I truly wish that it didn't have to come to this. All we wanted was the girl."

"As the Yanks like to say, fuck you, Wormtail," snarled Harry.

"Strong words, Harry! What would your parents say-?"

"DON'T YOU DARE MENTION MY PARENTS YOU TRAITOR!"

Wormtail opened his mouth to respond – only to be hit by a green curse from behind. Wormtail whirled around, prepared to curse Daphne – only to bend forward and vomit a bright green slug on the sidewalk.

Idly, Harry wondered if the size of the slug represented Wormtail in some way – both were slimy cowards, and provoked disgust.

Still, he ignored his disgust as he charged at Wormtail, wrenching his wand from his grasp and knocking him to the ground. He turned to Privet Drive, intending to finally get to safety-

Only to find himself looking at the wand tip of one final Death Eater. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wormtail shift into his Animagus form and disappear as lightning arched through the night sky.

"It's over Potter," came the oily voice of Lucius Malfoy from behind the white mask, even Harry saw even more Death Eaters apparate in the heavy rain, "_Silencio!_ Now, we'll take the Greengrass girl, regardless of your intentions. Perhaps we'll even let you watch as we… take care of her."

Undiluted rage coursed through Harry as he heard the other Death Eaters laugh. He trembled with anger as the Death Eater's advanced on Number 4, only to find themselves blocked by the wards on Privet Drive. Daphne started to curse them from behind the cover of the doorway, but the Death Eaters batted away the curses with relative ease.

"_Reducto_'s on three," came a voice Harry didn't recognize, "We need to wear down the wards! One, two, THREE!"

"_REDUCTO!_"

The next few seconds were a blur to Harry. There was a flash of light as the wards protecting Privet Drive reacted violently to the attack. Almost immediately after, his ears were deafened by a loud _CRACK_, and at the same time he was suddenly filled with energy, everything was so _slow_ and _illuminated_ and he had never felt so _alive, and they would not touch her son-_

And pure lightning erupted from Harry's hands, seeking to destroy those who opposed their master, even as Lucius Malfoy and most of the other Death Eaters were _pushed_ away, but nevertheless his power erupted, defending him, attacking, _they would not pass, they would suffer, THEY WOULD NOT TOUCH HER SON-_

And then everything went black.  
…

_A hallway, with a black door at its end. The hallway is oppressive, with a low curved ceiling and black tiles decorating every single facet. There is no sound, except for the whispers, no, whisper, for it is one voice. Harry does not know who, or what is making the whisper, for it is too faint for it to be distinguishable, but he does know one thing: the whisper is coming from behind the door._  
…...

Harry opened his eyes. And ended up closing them immediately when the white, harshly bright light pierced through them like blunt spears into his brain. His resulting groan of pain alerted someone of his awakening.

"Here," came a voice he dimly recognize, but could not put a face to, "Breathe in. It'll help with the pain."

A rag was placed over his mouth and nose, and the scent was so sweet and alluring that he could not help but take a deep breath. Immediately, his mind cleared and he was able to open his eyes without any pain. In fact, his entire migraine was gone – except for the constant throbbing of his scar.

When the rag was removed – for it blocked his eyesight as well – he was met with eyes of cerulean blue.

"How do you feel?" asked Daphne, concern lacing her voice.

"Good," he said, "and I'm not lying either."

A chuckle answered his statement, but it was not from Daphne. "We would hope so, Mr. Potter. Even though they are not really shared with the general public, our medicine is very effective."

The man who had spoken was hidden behind a pitch-black cloak. His face was not hidden by a mask, for it was as if the hood of his cloak was so dark it presented a void were a face should be, leaving only the chin and mouth bare to the world. His voice, no, his accent was strange as well.

Looking around, Harry noticed that he was not in his room. He was lying on the bed in the Master bedroom, Daphne sitting on the edge next to him and the cloaked man standing next to her. Anything else was too blurry to distinguish – he did not have his glasses on – but he could see that they were otherwise alone, and he could hear that the rain had stopped.

He cast around looking for his wand, when the man held out his hand and offered him the object in question, plus his glasses. Harry blinked when he noticed that they were floating in the air above the offered hand.

"Here. Your glasses were broken in the explosion, so I took the liberty of creating a new pair for you. They're magical eyewear, so hopefully they'll keep adjusting as your prescription changes."

_Explosion? What in the name of Merlin happened?_ Thought Harry as he took his wand and glasses. He slid the glasses on, noting that they looked exactly like his old ones, if not shinier.

"Who are you?" asked Harry as he sat up. Daphne moved to give him some space, and he noticed that they were holding hands; when did that happen?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," answered the man with a rueful smile, "My job… well, we have to take a vow of silence when it comes to the details, and my name falls under that category. You can call me…" The man seemed to think for a moment, "Sir."

"Your job?"

Sir grinned – which was strange in itself, since his mouth was the only thing you could see – and said, "Isn't it obvious? I'm an Unspeakable, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt his jaw drop, but managed to compose himself quite quickly. "Sir, why-?"

"Why am I here?" finished the Unspeakable, and Harry nodded. Sir shrugged, "To be honest, I was hoping you could tell me; I was waiting for you to wake up before asking questions. U.M.D.'s in countries as far as Japan were triggered twenty minutes ago when you did your abracadabra thing."

"U.M.D.'s?" asked Daphne.

"Unidentified Magic Detectors," Sir answered. "Each country with at least one magical community has to have a minimum of one I.M.D. – that's Identified Magic Detector – so that potential witches and wizards can be found through accidental magic surges. As for U.M.D.'s, there are only five in the world: one in Britain, which covers all of Europe and northern Africa; one in India that covers all Asia and southern Africa; one in Japan for all of Oceania; and two back home in the States for North and South America."

"You're American?" asked Daphne in surprise.

Sir smirked, "What, did you think that the CIA was going to let a chance to study something like this slip away? As it is, this is more of a joint operation with the Department of Mysteries from the British Ministry of Magic. They agreed to send me because I'm one of the more experienced members worldwide. And not because I'm old – FYI, I'm actually eighteen years old, and I'm not even a wizard." By the end, Harry could detect some smugness in his voice.

Daphne frowned, "If you aren't a wizard, then what are you? A squib?"

"By wizarding standards, I would be a civilian." At their expressions, he reiterated, "Right, Brits. I would be what you call a muggle. No magical relatives, and I don't have a magical core of any kind. But enough about me – I'm here to talk about you. Let's go downstairs for a moment, shall we?"

Sir grinned before his whole body turned into smoke, making Daphne shriek in surprise. With a whoosh, he was out the open door.

Daphne seemed to fan herself with one hand. "Not a wizard, he says. He's obviously something, isn't he!"

Harry grinned, "You have to admit that it was wicked, though." Then Harry frowned, "I had forgotten about your leg… How does it feel?"

Daphne smiled at him before stretching it, revealing unblemished skin through a hole in her jeans. "Not even a scratch left," she said, "He poured a few drops of… something in it, and everything just grew back in seconds. I'm as good as new." She smirked when she noticed Harry hadn't torn his gaze away from the revealed skin. "See something you like?"

Daphne laughed when Harry blushed at being caught, but she smiled at him anyways. "Thanks." At his look of bewilderment, she continued, "For looking out for me tonight… and for saving my life."

Harry frowned, "It was nothing… though I am curious as to what happened."

Daphne shook her head. "I can't tell you… at least, not yet. I don't trust him," she said, motioning her head towards the door, "I mean, I trust that he won't turn on us and kill us, but I'd rather tell you when we're alone."

Harry nodded in agreement, before saying, "We should get down there. Best not to keep him waiting."

"Agreed."

"What happened with the Dursleys?" asked Harry as they went down the stairs, "I'm surprised that they aren't putting much of a fuss with all that's happened."

"I… I'm not sure," said Daphne, "When Sir brought you in, your uncle was… well, he was furious, screaming about freaks in his house and owls and all other sorts of things. Sir just walked up to him, pulled out some sort of metallic wand and pointed it at his head. And then he said-"

"I kindly told him to shut the fuck up, take his family and get in his car or else his brains would be redecorating the kitchen," interrupted Sir as they walked into the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, with a lit cigarette in his hand from which he was taking a pull every now and then. There were five letters on the table, as well as a black gun, but all Harry knew about it was that it was a handgun.

Sir continued, "Not surprisingly, all three of them left pretty quick. He tried to threaten me with calling the cops, but I told him I WAS a cop. Showed him a badge and everything… berretta style." Sir chuckled, something that Harry and Daphne did not reciprocate.

"Alright, down to business. Take a seat," he told them, and they did so. After putting out his cigarette, Sir pulled a small notepad, a pen, and a muggle recorder from inside his cloak and started making a few notes. After a while, the Unspeakable started the recorder and started to speak, "Let it be noted that the participants, one Mister Harry James Potter, age fifteen, and one Lady Daphne Andromeda Greengrass, age fifteen, and heiress of the Greengrass family, know that they are being recorded and questioned about the events occurring tonight between the times of nine o'clock and nine thirty this evening.

"So, Harry – can I call you Harry? – explain to me what happened at exactly nine thirty this evening? Or better yet, start from the moment that Miss Greengrass apparated at the park on Magnolia Road."

_So he doesn't know about the letter…_ Harry thought,_ well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him._

Harry told Sir the events of the entire evening, with Daphne interjecting with comments every now and then. She glanced at him when he mentioned Peter Pettigrew, but didn't comment on it. Also, due to his cloak, Harry couldn't see the Unspeakable's expressions, but every now and then he thought he could detect the man's surprise even as he kept taking his notes.

When he got to the part were Malfoy had had him at wand point, Harry said, "I don't really remember much of what happened. Everything was just so fast…"

"Understandable," said the Unspeakable, "Miss Greengrass, do you have anything else to what we've gone over?"

"No."

"Ok, then. Please explain your version of the events being investigated; specifically, the event that set off the U.M.D.'s as previously explained."

Here, the Unspeakable seemed to lean forward slightly, as if paying even more attention. Daphne took a deep breath before starting to speak.

"Dudley's cousin had taken me inside the house, but I asked him to put me down near the front door because I wanted to help Harry fight the Death Eaters. When Lucius Malfoy apparated behind Harry, I tried to warn him somehow, but I was too late. At that moment, I thought that it was over, but I really wasn't going to go down without a fight, so I started sending spells at the Death Eaters – Stunners, Disarming Charms, Bone-Breakers, Entrails-Expelling…"

"So you admit to the use of what the British Ministry of Magic describes as, borderline type two Dark Magic combat curses?" When Daphne hesitated, Sir smiled, "Remember, this isn't going to be used in a court of law. I just want to get an idea of the circumstances surrounding the event."

Daphne nodded, "I admit to the use of the curses for self-defense."

"Good. Continue please."

"As I was saying, the Death Eaters started attacking the wards to wear them down; I believe the curse they were using was the Reductor spell. The wards seemed to resist for a moment under the initial volley, since some of the curses rebounded, but they collapsed soon after that." Daphne glanced at Harry for a moment before she continued.

"At that moment, there was this flash of light and a bang, and when I looked over at Harry… it looked like he had been hit- no, _was_ being hit by lightning. After the lightning stopped, there were arcs of electricity going up and down his body and sparks shooting out from him, and he was _glowing._ A moment later, there was this, this _surge_, like a wave of power and lightning coming from him, and the Death Eaters were knocked away, but it didn't seem to harm me.

"After that, the Death Eaters left, and Harry stood there for a moment before he just fainted. I started to walk over to check on him when I tripped because of my Splinch. When I looked up, you had already arrived.

"And that's it," finished Daphne.

The Unspeakable, who had stopped writing when Daphne had started to speak, glanced over at Harry before saying, "Let it be noted that the recording was paused at this time." He paused the recorder and turned to Harry. "You alright bro?"

_No. No, I most certainly am not!_ Harry's mind was whirling with everything that he had heard. _Lightning?_ What was he, some sort of jedi?

"Breathe," said Sir, "It might help both you and me if you weren't unconscious, alright?"

Until now, Harry hadn't noticed that he had been hyperventilating, and so he took a deep breath before attempting to speak.

"What…" Harry swallowed, before trying to speak again, "what does all this mean?"

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought that if Sir's hood was down, he would be frowning. "I have an idea. Don't worry, it's not a bad thing, but I need to finish these questions before I can reach any conclusions, ok?"

Harry took a deep breath, "In that case, let's get this over with Sir."

Sir nodded and restarted the recorder, "Recording continued at this time. One last question then: describe what you felt before, during, and after the event in discussion."

Harry frowned, "Before it happened… I was angry. Angry at the Death Eaters for what they were saying, angry at Pettigrew for being there, angry at myself for falling for such an obvious trap… and I guess I was angry at Dumbledore too, since he promised me that I would be safe at Privet Drive. Obviously, I wasn't, and it doesn't really matter now, but I wasn't really thinking at the time, was I?

"When the lightning hit…" Harry trailed off uncertainly, before he smiled as he thought of a way to explain himself, "Sometimes, when I fly on my broom, I try to go as high as I can, where it gets so cold I can see my breath, even during the summer and with the use of the Bubble-head Charm. When I get to that point, I go into an accelerated dive and I don't pull out until a certain point. If I compare the adrenaline rush from the dive with what I felt tonight… it would be like comparing tofu with Honeydukes' best candy. I had never, ever, felt so… so _alive_, you know?"

Harry glanced at both of them, and noted their frowns, "I'm not really explaining myself well, am I?"

Sir hummed, "Oh no, it was actually pretty good! It probably isn't accurate, but it does give the general idea of what you were feeling. Anything else to add?"

Harry cast his mind back to the moment, remembering the rage he had felt. _No,_ he thought, _I can't tell him about that._ So instead of answering, he shook his head, not trusting his voice enough to answer truthfully.

Sir nodded, "What about after?"

"You mean when I woke up?"

Sir seemed to think for a moment, "Yeah, I suppose that it counts as well."

"Truthfully? I felt like my head had been used as a bludger. It went away though with that medicine you gave me."

Sir nodded, "Let it be noted that a general pain reliever was administered to the subject in an aerosol form. No other residual effects that you can think of?" Harry shook his head, and Sir smiled, "In that case, we're done. Recording end."

Sir stopped the recorder and put it back in his cloak, along with his notes and his pen. Then, he stood up and moved to the kitchen sink.

"Do you mind if I grab something to drink?" he asked without looking at Harry.

"Go ahead."

Sir held his palm out to the cupboards, and when they opened a glass flew out and into his hand. Harry gasped at the display, an action mimicked by Daphne.

"I thought you said-"

"I said I wasn't a wizard," Sir said as he poured water into the cup from the faucet, "but that doesn't mean that I'm talentless."

Harry thought back to the moment where he had turned into smoke. "You don't say!"

Sir turned around with a smirk, "Let me give you both some advice: Magic is fickle; the closer you look, the easier it will be for magic to fool you, and so, the less you will see. It's like those magicians that travel in circuses: when they say that the trick is happening in a specific place, the real thing is actually happening somewhere else. It's misdirection – one of the most basic common aspects of magic.

"What I'm trying to say is that you have to learn to look at the big picture. I'm an Unspeakable, and an international one at that, so you can't just assume that I'm going to be like the common witch or wizard. And while even I can admit that telekinesis is pretty far out, you shouldn't be that surprised. You have to learn to adapt, and take magic in stride. It's a lesson that the two of you, especially you Harry, are going to have to learn soon, especially now that I'm sure of what happened tonight!"

"So you do know what happened?" asked Daphne while the Unspeakable took a drink, "I grew up surrounded by magic, and I've never heard of lightning being manipulated like Harry did tonight!"

Sir finished his drink before he answered, "Energy."

Daphne blinked, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Technically, Harry wasn't manipulating lightning or electricity, he was manipulating energy that manifested itself as lightning. He's an Elemental." At their expressions of incomprehension, Sir sighed, "Let me explain. Magic is a form of energy, and when you wizards are casting spells you're tapping into that energy and transforming it to get the result you want. It's the Law of Conservation of Energy: Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only _transformed_.

"Elementals, however, have a greater advantage: they can tap into that magical energy and manipulate it _at its most basic and raw form_ to affect their general surroundings. An Earth Elemental, for example, can tap into the magic running in a fault line and cause an Earthquake measureable on the Richter scale. In Harry's case, he's tapping into the energy and manipulating it as lightning and electricity. Pretty flashy if I say so myself." Sir paused, before he grinned, "You know, this is going to give you problems when you're in bed with someone… all the… _friction_ might give an unintended result."

Harry felt his face burn in mortification as both Sir and Daphne howled with laughter. _Bloody American._ Eventually, they managed to get their laughter in control, and Harry was able to ask something that had been on his mind.

"Sir, what sets me apart from the rest of the world? Is it that I have a bigger magical core, or more affinity with magic…?"

Sir scoffed, "Well, someone has a big head. It's not like you're the next Merlin or something like that! Jeez… take into account that everything in this world takes effort, and chances are that you'll have to train your ass off before being able to access your power like you did tonight. Who knows, maybe what happened tonight was a freak of circumstance, and the most you'll be able to do is summon a few sparks every now and then.

"But to answer your question, I can't tell you that because I don't know the answer to that question myself. Including the both of us, there have only been five recorded Elementals alive this century, and the two of them are suspected to have been killed in action in Vietnam, while the other went missing in the Iranian coup of 1979. And before you ask, no, Albus Dumbledore is not an elemental. So as you can see, there haven't been many chances to study elementals in general." Sir leaned forward, "It also means that Elementals can be killed. So if I were you, I'd keep those abilities of yours a secret.

Sir turned to Daphne, "And that goes for you as well, Miss Greengrass. At this moment, Harry is entitled to ask me to obliviate any knowledge of tonight's events from your mind. As it is, I'll be keeping an eye on the both of you to make sure you keep quiet about all this, am I understood?" Gone was Sir, the easygoing teenager, who was replaced by the Nameless Unspeakable; his tone was serious, and broke no room for arguments.

Harry glanced at Daphne who met his gaze head-on. "Harry," she said, "you saved my life tonight, and you have definitely earned my respect with everything that you have done. You could have turned me away, left me bleeding to the Dementors or let the Death Eaters take me away, but you didn't; you stood and defended me. For that, you have my unwavering loyalty and friendship, and I am willing to make an Unbreakable Vow to prove my claim."

Sir sucked in a breath, "Whoa, there, hold your horses! That's a hefty promise, you realize what you're saying there, right?"

"I do," said Daphne with conviction.

"Um, not to sound ignorant," said Harry, "but what's an Unbreakable Vow?"

"Kind of obvious," said Sir, "It's a vow you can't break. The penalty for breaking it is Death; no refunds, no returns."

Harry's jaw dropped, "I can't accept that! That's barbaric!"

"And yet I'm going to do it, Potter, so man up and give me your hand," Daphne was resolute in her decision; looking at her, Harry realized that no matter what he said, she would not back down from this.

Grasping at straws, Harry turned to the Unspeakable, "What about you?"

Sir shrugged, "Well, the Unspeakables already know about me, since they're studying me after all. But you forget I'm under oath to never discuss anything related to by job, and that includes this."

Harry sighed, and after a moment, he grasped Daphne's right hand with his own. Sir then placed his index finger on their interlinked hands.

"While I don't have a wand, I've acted as a Bonder before, so I know this will work. Now Harry, the Unbreakable Vow is consisted of three statements, and you have to word them so that she can't break them accidentally and keel over for saying the wrong thing. Take your time."

Harry nodded, extremely nervous, before he started to speak, "Will you-?"

"Say her name," Sir interrupted, but was cowed under to successive glares, "Right, sorry. Shutting up."

Harry took a couple of breaths before starting again, "Will you, Daphne Greengrass, keep my secrets on the pain of death, unless I allow you do to so?"

"I will," Daphne answered without hesitation.

A thin tongue of flame sprouted from Sir's fingertip and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

"And will you help me train my powers to the best of your ability, unless circumstance does not allow you to do so?"

"I will," said Daphne.

A second tongue of flame shot from the fingertip and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

"And will you stand be my side against the Dark Lord Voldemort and his allies, and to never betray me, my friends, or my family to them?"

Here Daphne seemed straighten before giving her final answer:

"I will."

**Didn't see that one coming, did you? Anyways, comment, favorite, and follow if you like! And before I sign off, what is with the one-word reviews? Come on, show me some constructive criticism here! Was I OOC? What did you think of Sir the Unspeakable? Was I too technical? Did I ramble too much? Help me out here!**


	3. Truths and Travels

**Awkward… I'd like to apologize to my readers, seeing I made an enormous and unforgivable mistake: It's not 12, but 10 Commandments. I'm an idiot, and I apologize if I've offended anyone.**

**Normally I'd respond to reviews by PM, but since some people reviewed anonymously, I'll answer them at the bottom.**

Chapter 3 – Of Truth and Travels

"Well?"

Daphne looked up from one of the letters the Unspeakable had left, "What do you mean?"

Harry gave her a look from the open window, "You know what, Daphne. I know that you made a Vow and all, but that doesn't mean I'm going to automatically trust you now. You need to talk."

"You know, according to this, you've been expelled-"

"Daphne…"

"Alright, alright!" Daphne sighed before placing the open book on the kitchen table. Harry sat down across from her and patiently waited for her to collect her thoughts.

Eventually, Daphne took a deep breath and released it in a huff, "Unlike most of Magical Britain, I believed you when you said that You-Know-Who had returned. And not because I'm Slytherin, though that just confirmed it – it's the fact that during Christmas when I went home for the holidays, my Father was contacted by Lucius Malfoy. I happened to be walking past the sitting room when I heard Malfoy talking about his Dark Mark becoming darker. I heard my Father mention that His Return was possible, and Malfoy agreed. And then he said…

"He asked Lucius if there were openings available. Malfoy laughed, and he said that there were, but that there was an entrance fee. When my Father asked what it was, Malfoy said, 'Your family's beautiful flesh.'"

Daphne shuddered at the memory, "My Father didn't even hesitate to agree. At that moment, I just ran to my Mother's room; Astoria, my younger sister, had stayed at Hogwarts, and I was thanking every god I could think of for it. I told my Mother everything, and she got this look in her eye and told me not to worry. She pushed me toward the Fireplace, and told me to head to my friend Tracy Davis' house. I tried to convince her to go with me, but before I could say anything, my mother petrified me. The last thing I saw before I went into the Floo was my Father and Lucius coming into the room."

Daphne looked at the kitchen window, staring at something only she could see. "You have to understand Harry, that I was scared to death for my mother. She and my Father never loved each other; in fact my father hated her because she never gave him a male heir. I was afraid that my mother would not live through the night, and I didn't want to risk calling the Aurors in case Lucius found out where I was hiding – I couldn't do that to Tracy. The next day, I got a letter from her telling me to stay at the Davis' for the rest of the holiday, and that she would see me at King's Cross at the end of the year. _She promised that she would be the one to pick me up, not my father._

Daphne hung her head, her tears falling freely now, "I knew I would never see her again when I saw my father at the Station."

Harry reached out and took her hand, offering what little comfort he could, even as she continued speaking, "I was so scared, Harry… I never told Astoria what had happened. I fooled myself into thinking that my mother was well, and that everything would be alright, even after you came out of that maze with Diggory's body. At the last moment, I told Astoria to stay with one of her friends for the summer, that mum had told me beforehand and that I had forgotten to tell her.

"I thought it would be the last time I would see her smile."

Daphne looked at him, "Harry, I love my mother, but I love my sister even more, and I would do anything for her. I don't know what you think of us Slytherins, but not all of us are evil. Malfoy is not Slytherin House incarnate; if anything, he's a Gryffindor through and through with all his brashness."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, "Agreed. Can you imagine what would have happened if Malfoy and I had switched houses in our first year?"

Daphne smirked through her tears, "Perish the thought! You'd be even more annoying than him, and I'd be stuck watching your back!"

The two shared a laugh before Daphne squeezed his hand, "Thanks Harry. I needed that."

"Anytime," he said, and he meant it. Daphne smiled at him, and he felt lighter as a result.

She continued telling her story, "So, my sister went with one of her friends to spend the summer, and I went with my father. During the whole trip home, he and I didn't say a word. When we got to the manor, he told me to go to my room and that I write to Tracy so that she wouldn't get worried. He also told me that he would be screening my mail, so he would know everything I wrote to her.

"The first thing I did was to check my mother's room. My parents never slept together, you see. The room was empty, pristine… but I could tell that my mother hadn't slept in her bed for months at the least." Daphne got a faraway look in her eyes, "The room was as if she had never left. I could almost picture her, sitting at the window and looking at the main gate, as if she just wanted to stand and leave and never look back.

"Instead all there was was a letter. I almost ignored it when I noticed that it was meant for me. I grabbed it and took it back to my room. It was from my mother, you see. She told me that she loved me, to take care of my sister since she wouldn't be able to… It sounded like… like…" Daphne trailed off, unable to continue as she started to sob.

Harry was scared. He had no experience with girls in general, much less crying girls. Still, he had an idea of what she was going through. Growing up, he had watched as his Aunt Petunia had showered Dudley with gifts and praises and love like a never-ending cascade. Oh, how many times he had wished for that, instead of the coldness and the harshness and the cupboard under the stairs! Had he not longed for that mother's love, a love he knew he would never have?

But what was worse: never having a mother's love, wishing for it every single day of your life, or having it your whole life and experience the pain of having it torn away forever, knowing that you would never have it again?

It was worse, Harry decided, when you knew who was responsible and you couldn't do anything about it.

His decision made, he stood, walked around the table, and after coaxing her from her chair he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Slowly, he guided her back to the stairs after noting that the couch was stained with blood; it must have been where the Unspeakable had healed her. Once they had climbed the stairs, he guided her towards his room – there was no way on earth that he would let her sleep where his Uncle had lain.

"Lay down," he told her, "I'm sorry it's not much, but…"

Daphne didn't answer, but her hands tightened on his jumper as if she didn't want him to go. _She must have been terrified. Being all alone for so long, not knowing what would happen… She has the loyalty of a Hufflepuff to her mother and sister, the bravery of a Gryffindor to suffer in their stead, the cunning of a Slytherin to protect her sister, and the wit of a Ravenclaw to escape her father. Any other Slytherin would have thrown their family to the wolves, but instead she conspired in their favor!_

It was amazing really… but at the same time, Harry recognized that the price was just too high.

Harry managed to get her on the bed, and after pulling the covers over her, he was suddenly at a loss. Should he leave? Or should he keep her company? What if she wanted privacy? Merlin damn it all, why was this all of a sudden so complicated?

"Harry?"

When Harry looked down at her, the Ice Queen of Slytherin looked many years younger than her true age. "Stay with me?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. How could he not? He sat on the edge of the bed, automatically looking for Hedwig. He should send a letter to Sirius, tell him that the wards had fallen…

Reaching over for a pen and parchment, he quickly wrote:

_Padfoot,_

_The wards have fallen. The dementors weren't the only things to show up today. Death Eaters attacked, and there's someone else here with me, but don't worry, they're a friend. Don't tell anyone about the last one though. There's a lot I need to tell you, but I can't put in a letter. We managed to fight the Death Eaters off, and they portkeyed out. I'm sorry to say that the Rat got away though. Send someone reasonable, because I am not abandoning my friend._

_Solemnly swearing that I am up to no good,  
Prongs Jr._

He rolled the letter up, and grabbed some twine.

"Hedwig," he called, and the beautiful snowy owl flew from her perch and onto his desk, sticking out her leg so that he could tie the letter to it.

"Fly fast, girl, and get this to Sirius as soon as you can. Be careful, though. There could be Death Eaters out there still."

His owl hooted before spreading her wings and flying out the open window.

"Smart owl," came Daphne's tired voice. He chuckled.

"She's the best," he said, "Hagrid got her for me the first time I went to Diagon Alley four years ago. Best birthday ever…"

Harry could hear her frown as she asked, "Your first time? You had never visited Diagon before?"

"What you see is what I grew up in, Daphne. I was raised by the Dursleys, and they hate magic with a passion. This used to be Dudley's second bedroom before it was mine, and that only changed after I got my Hogwarts letter… all seventy-three of them." Harry chuckled at the memory.

"Seventy-three?" asked Daphne, humor lacing her voice, "No wonder Sir thought you had a big head! What happened?"

Harry turned to her with a smile, "It all started the day of Dudley's birthday. The Dursleys were going on a trip to the Zoo, but they couldn't leave me behind…"

And so Harry started to tell her about the Letter Incident, as he had called it. When the tale was done, and they had shared a laugh, he found that the talking came easier to him. The hours whittled away as he told her of life growing up as a muggle, only stopping when he noticed Daphne yawning more and more.

"Get some sleep," he told her, "I'll stay up, keep an eye open for trouble."

"What if the Death Eaters come back?" she asked, even as she was falling asleep.

"I'll wake you up," he promised, "Sweet dreams."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

A pause. "Thanks," she said, voice heavy with sleep, "You sure know how to give a girl a good time."

Moments later, her breathing evened out as she fell asleep. He smiled; she truly was beautiful. How could her father…? No, he would not let his thoughts go down that path.

Standing and closing the door quietly, he walked back to the kitchen with his wand drawn; after all, the Death Eaters could return at any time. Taking the letters and a journal that the Unspeakable had left behind, he turned on the burglar alarm and walked back up the stairs when he caught sight of his Aunt and Uncle's open door.

_Vernon climbed down the stairs with a rifle in his hands. Now Harry knew what was in the mysterious thin package._

From what Harry remembered that night, Hagrid had twisted the weapon into uselessness with a mere pinch of his fingers. Idly, Harry wondered how his Uncle had gotten the rifle, since firearms were illegal in Britain. Perhaps he had managed to get another one…?

A search under the bed and inside the closet yielded no results except for a bottle of rum, and so Harry quickly gave up, preferring to return to his bedroom and taking the bottle with him. One rag-of-a-shirt later, he had transformed the rum into a Molotov Cocktail, which would hopefully buy some time if the Death Eater's returned.

Sitting at his desk chair, he examined each letter. _So, one letter from Mr. Weasley, one from Sirius, two from the Ministry, and one from… this one doesn't say…._

Setting the nameless latter aside, he read the ones from Mr. Weasley and Sirius, both of whom told him to stay in the house and that Dumbledore was taking care of everything at the Ministry. The Ministry letters were straightforward as well: one notifying him of his expulsion from Hogwarts because of his breach of Underage magic, the other amending that decision and notifying him of a hearing scheduled for the Twelfth of August, and that he was not expelled, but suspended from Hogwarts.

_Well, that's a relief,_ he thought sarcastically. Finally he opened the last letter, which he now realized was from Sir.

_Harry,_

_I didn't give you much to go on with your powers, and I'm sorry about that. Truth is, all I've learned has been through experience alone, and I've written down everything I've learned about Elementalism in that journal. Even though I've kept it on me for years, I haven't written anything new in it for about half that amount of time. I think it's time it's put to use. Even though Telekinesis and Electrokinesis have almost nothing in common, I hope that it's of some use to you._

_Your friendly neighborhood,  
Sir the Unspeakable._

_P.S.: Do me a favor and burn this after you let Daphne read it?_

Harry grinned, and a second later he had opened the journal to its first page. He noticed that the journal was old, and while the leather was brand-new, the pages were tattered and slightly-yellowed of age. Strangely, there were no dates in the journal as far as he could tell.

_First Entry…_

_I have no idea why I'm doing this, but the truth is, I'm scared. Things are going on around me, and somehow I know I'm making them happen even if I can't explain it. Like how I made that pot explode, or when those kids took my discus to play with it they couldn't let go of it… like it was glued to their hands. I'm alone, and all I have is my sister. Things are happening to her as well, but they're completely different from what's happening to me. Could it be like those famous Heroes, like Heracles and Jason and the Argonauts? I know that some of them, like Zetes and Calais were gifted because their father is a wind god, but me and my sister, children of gods? The idea is… laughable. But it would explain what's happening. I need to control it, no doubt, but how do I start?_

_Children of a god?_ Harry asked himself. He would have to ask Daphne, or perhaps Hermione if he could avoid her suspicion… But perhaps even more surprising was the fact that Sir had a sister, and that he trusted him with the journal.

Suddenly, Harry realized that what he was holding was more precious than the Elixir of Life in his trunk. He would keep it secret, start training somewhere he wouldn't be found out… Harry continued reading.

_I need to find a place though… as much as they revere the heroes, my people would not take kindly to mine sister's and mine training. Though perhaps experimentation is a better word. Somewhere open, but quiet and isolated. Perhaps the cliffs of Theseus? I shall discuss the idea with my sister; the idea has merit._

The entry ended there, and Harry frowned, pensive for a moment before an idea came to mind. The Chamber of Secrets would be large enough to accommodate his training. The only problem would be sneaking in and out the second floor bathroom without getting caught, something that was easily solved with his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map.

Harry kept reading the journal, even as the empty house creaked around him and the pipes gurgled. Then quite distinctly, an unknown amount time later, he heard one of the bushes outside rustle and a curse to follow. He sat bolt upright, listening intently, and the journal fell to the floor. The resulting noise roused Daphne from her sleep. Harry pressed a finger to her lips as he drew his wand.

_Get ready,_ he mouthed, and she nodded, pulling her wand out as well as she quietly got to her feet. Harry bent, picking up the Molotov Cocktail from the floor. By now, the rag had absorbed enough alcohol that a tiny spark would set it off. Nodding his head to the window, Harry remembered the rather helpful tip Sir had left them.

"_Why were my spells not detected when the Death Eaters attacked?_" _Daphne had asked._

"_Because exactly five minutes after your Apparition, the U.M.D. started to detect magic in the area, and so the Department of Mysteries jammed the local I.M.D.'s set to monitor the Surrey – specifically, Harry. Unfortunately, the storm started to build after he used the Patronus Charms, so the I.M.D.'s were still online at the time._

"_We jam the I.M.D.'s by overloading them with a more powerful signal that's too wide for their spectrum – meaning that they can't get a read on it, and they won't be detecting anything for a day or so. Also, I've set up some basic ward stones with muggle-repelling wards so that they won't notice anything strange going on if something breaks out. Something to think about, yeah?"_

Harry and Daphne quietly approached the open window, and Harry's heart leaped at the sight. There were people outside, about a dozen or so, all of them quietly sneaking towards the front door with wands out. They were cloaked, and in the dim moonlight, their identities were hidden.

Sharing a glance, the two teenagers nodded before Harry held out the cocktail. Upon a touch with Daphne's wand, the rag caught fire, and Harry was about to hurl it out the open window when a silver blur entered the window. Harry raised his wand, but found it being lowered by Daphne.

"It's a Patronus message," she said as the mist started to take the shape of a wolf. The ethereal creature opened it's mouth, and a voice Harry hadn't heard in over a year came spoke.

"_I solemnly swear that it is I who is in your front lawn_."

The Patronus faded away, and Daphne looked at Harry with surprise.

"Wasn't that the voice of-"

"Our dear ex-professor Lupin?" Harry finished, "Yes, yes it was."

…**ooOoo…**

"And what makes you think that we can trust her!? You don't even know her!"

"I certainly know more about her than I do about you, Professor _Crouch_!"

The man the wizarding world called Mad-Eye Moody grinned maliciously, "Oh, you do know how to use those Lion claws of yours… But that isn't enough, I'm afraid."

"Harry," Professor Lupin spoke gently, "The crux of the matter is that we can't risk any information being leaked out. I'm sure you trust Miss Greengrass to some degree, but we both know that you don't know her that well. We can't risk it!"

"I'm sorry Moony, but I made a promise. I plan to keep it. If she stays, I stay as well."

"And what makes you think that we won't knock the two of you out, drag you to Headquarters and leave her here?" asked the woman with hair colored a violent shade of violet.

Harry grinned. _Check. Daphne, you are marvelous!_ "One, the fact that you just mentioned that, Miss Nymphadora. And two, unless you want to find out why Voldemort now fears two people in the world instead of one, you'll do as I ask."

_Your move, professors._

Moody and Lupin shared a glance while Tonks seethed at the use of her name. He had noticed her ire when Lupin had introduced her, insisting that he call her by her surname. It was one of the tips Daphne had given him as they climbed down the stairs to meet them: _"Irritate them. Piss them off. Don't give them a chance to come up with a comeback. Anything goes. Anything."_

And so far, it had worked. Tonks was too mad to be thinking straight, Moody had backed off, and Moony… Harry knew if there was one he could convince of Daphne's reliability and trust, it was him. The rest of the Advance Guard would probably follow Mad-Eye's lead, he figured.

"Moony, when have I ever been wrong? Tell me, just once, in the long run, when have I been wrong? You're right that I don't know her that well, but… it's just a gut feeling, you know?"

Lupin seemed torn for a few seconds before he asked, "Are you sure that she can be trusted?"

Harry glanced at the girl in question through the kitchen window, where Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones were keeping an eye on her. As if sensing his gaze on her, she looked up, and Harry smiled at her, a smile she reciprocated.

Harry turned back to Lupin, "I trust her as much as I would trust Ron or Hermione."

Remus sighed resignedly before smiling at him, "Alright, fine! You win. Go get your trunk and broom, will you?"

"I'll come and help you," said Tonks brightly. She followed Harry back into the house and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

"Funny place," she said, "It's a bit too clean, d' you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. My Dad's muggleborn, and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards? Oh, this is much better," she added, as they entered Harry's room and he turned on the light.

While he had cleaned and packed his trunk earlier in the day, his room was certainly much messier than the rest of his house. You could only do so much when you're stuck in a room for months on end and with nothing to do. Still, Hedwig's cage needed cleaning and was starting to stink. His trunk was already packed, and his Firebolt was where he had left it on his bed.

"_Scourgify!_" said Tonks, idly pointing her wand at Hedwig's cage. A few feathers and droppings vanished, and the cage didn't seem to stink as much anymore.

Harry started packing the last minute essentials into his trunk, including the letters and the Journal, as he had started to call it. Tonks paused at Harry's open wardrobe to look critically at her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.

"You know, I don't think violet's really my color," she said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair. "D' you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"Er-" said Harry, looking up at her, unlit Molotov Cocktail in his hands; he would have to get rid of it somehow.

"Yes, it does," said Tonks decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something. A second later, her hair had turned bubblegum pink.

"How did you do that?" asked Harry, his trunk forgotten on the floor as he stood.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could look at her hair from all directions. "I can change my appearance at will. I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise in Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"You're an Auror?" said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard-catcher was the only career he'd ever considered after Hogwarts. Though after meeting Sir, he wasn't so sure…

"Yeah," said Tonks, looking proud, "Though I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking; I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me land in that bush when we came in?"

"Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?"

Tonks chuckled, "Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar every now and then, eh?" Her eyes found the lightning-shaped on Harry's forehead.

"No, I wouldn't mind," Harry mumbled as he looked away. He did not like people looking at his scar.

"Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid," said Tonks, "Metamorphmagi are really rare, and they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand, or potions to change their appearance. But we've got to get going, we're supposed to be- packing…" she trailed off, looking around and noting the closed trunk and clean room. "Sorry."

Harry chuckled, "Don't be."

"Well, in that case got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Wow – A Firebolt!" Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry's hand. "I'm still riding a Comet Two-Sixty," she said enviously, "Ah well… Wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Ok, let's go. _Locomotor Trunk._"

Harry's trunk rose a few inches in the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, she guided the trunk across the room and out the door ahead of them, Hedwig's cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomstick.

Once in the kitchen, they found the rest of the Guard plus Daphne waiting for them. Lupin was having a conversation with Daphne and writing a letter, while Moody watched them with unblinking eyes. Even his blue eye, which could see through walls, floors, the ceiling, and the back of his own head, was trained on her. Kingsley was examining the microwave with interest, and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers.

"Finally!" barked Mad-eye, "Took you long enough. What in the name of Morgana were you doing up there?"

Tonks glanced at Harry with a wink, "I was having my way with young Mister Potter, and let me tell you, he's quite well equipped."

Harry flushed with embarrassment while the rest chuckled at Moody's ire. "Mad-Eye's just mad because his eye is stuck again," said Lupin.

"And it's been like that ever since that scum used it," growled the ancient Auror. "Give us a glass of water, Harry, will you?"

Harry did so, and as soon as he gave it to Moody, he said, "Cheers." With a squelching sound similar to a plunger being pulled from a sink, Moody had popped out his eye and dumped it into the water.

"You know that's disgusting, right Mad-eye?" said Tonks conversationally. Judging from her expression, Daphne was of a similar opinion.

"I want three hundred and sixty degree visibility on the return journey," he said as he prodded the eye up and down; the magical eyeball whizzed around and stared at each of them in turn.

"How're we getting – wherever we're going?" Harry asked.

"Brooms," said Lupin, "Only way. Even though Miss Greengrass can do it – she told me how she got here – you're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network and it more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey. You and Daphne will have to share, though."

"Remus says you're a good flyer," said Moody.

"He's excellent," Daphne spoke up. "What?" she asked when everyone turned to look at her, "Just because I'm in Slytherin doesn't mean I can't recognize talent! I saw him fly against that Horntail last year after all."

"Shouldn't you be supporting Malfoy?" asked Harry with amusement. Daphne scoffed in response.

"The day I support that ferret is the day I take the Dark Mark willingly. Bloody ponce thinks he owns the world."

_So not all of Slytherin follows Malfoy,_ thought Harry, _I wonder what really goes on in the pit of snakes?_

Lupin broke the silence, "So, we have about a minute left before the signal. We should probably get out in the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've written a letter to your Aunt and Uncle so they won't worry-"

"They won't," said Harry.

"-that you're safe-"

"That'll just depress them."

"-and that you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Lupin smiled but gave no answer. Daphne patted Harry's arm sympathetically.

"Come here, you two," said Moody gruffly, beckoning Harry and Daphne towards him with his wand, "I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" asked Daphne nervously.

"Disillusionment Charm," said Moody, raising his wand, "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll hide you better. Here you go."

Moody rapped him hard on the top of his head, and Harry felt a curious sensation there, like Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Mad-eye," said Tonks, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what used to be his body. It wasn't invisibility by a long shot, rather, it had simply taken the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to become a human chameleon.

"Now your turn," said Mad-eye as he struck Daphne this time. The charm looked like paint coming down from her head and over her body. Daphne looked down at her hands and body, before grinning.

"Wicked," she said, making Harry laugh.

"Come on," said Mad-eye, unlocking the back door with his wand. "Let's get out of here."

…**ooOoo…**

"_Now one last thing," the Unspeakable said as he stood to leave, "Not a word of tonight to anyone. No one, not even your mother, your friends, your teachers, hell, not even your dog if you have one can know of what happened tonight." The Unspeakable paused, "Let me put it to you this way: some cultures believe in Ten Commandments. We however, believe in an eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not speak. You have intrigued us. We will be watching. You say one word, or even open your mouth to try and tell someone of my presence here tonight, and you'll be Obliviated so fast and hard that Gilderoy Lockhart would look like a professional, and he Obliviated himself – oh yes, we know all about _that_. Got it?"_  
…

Sharing a broom with another person wasn't a bad thing, Harry decided. Perhaps it was a tad uncomfortable, but as long as he kept the broom steady neither he nor Daphne would have any risk of falling off the broom. Yet, he couldn't help but think of the difference if he had been using one of the school brooms instead.

_Not that I'll ever use one again… I might not even see the castle this year._

Sir had explained that anything previous to the jamming of the I.M.D.'s would be detected, so the Ministry had detected the Patronus Charm, but not the rest of the Death Eater attack. It made sense, Harry thought. The Unspeakables would want to keep everything a secret, so they would do everything in their power so that it stayed that way, Death Eater presence be damned. It was good thing, especially in the long run if nobody found out about Harry's Elemental Power.

"_You want to get better at it? Then you need three things: Practice, Discipline, and Intent. If you want to fry something to a crisp, you have to _will it_ to happen, otherwise you won't do anything. I didn't get to the point I am by just sitting on my ass. I suggest meditation as a first step…"_

Yes, the Unspeakable's visit had been more than enlightening. As much as Harry wished for a sense of normalcy, at this point he knew that he would never get his wish. He might as well get as much as he could out of the deal.

"Watch it!" Daphne warned him. Due to his distraction, the Firebolt had wobbled under the both of them. While Harry was in the normal seating position, Daphne was sitting sideways, Harry's arms secured around her waist so that he could steer.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to happen!"

"Oh yes, just as you'll be sorry when you accidentally drop me, I'm sure!"

"Oy! Be quiet back there!" yelled Mad-Eye, "We don't want to attract any unnecessary attention!"

"UNNECESSARY ATTENTION!? WE'RE TWO THOUSAND FEET IN THE AIR AND FREEZING OUR ARSES OFF, WHAT DEATH EATER IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD FOLLOW US UP HERE!?"

Harry snickered at Tonks' yelling, but was grateful for it nonetheless. His hands were growing numb on the Firebolt's handle, and while he and Daphne were sharing body heat in a way, he was starting to shiver.

"Time to start the descent!" came Lupin's voice, "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

"Hold on," he cautioned Daphne as he followed Tonks in a dive. They were heading towards the biggest collection of lights he had ever seen, a huge, sprawling crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Harry could distinguish individual headlights and streetlights, chimneys and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he suspected that someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.

"Welcome to London," said Daphne as she gazed around. "It's beautiful at night," she added, "'Wish I could take a picture."

"Here we go!" called Tonks, and a second later she had landed. Harry landed right behind her on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square, and after letting Daphne dismount first, he dismounted as well. Shivering, he looked around.

The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

"Where are we?" asked Harry as Daphne rubbed her arms, but Lupin said quietly, "In a minute."

Moody was rummaging in his Cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold. "Got it," he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clinking it, and the nearest streetlight went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again, and another lamp went out. After several more clicks, every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only remaining light came from the curtained windows, and the sickle moon overhead.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer, "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now come on, quick."

He took Daphne by the arm and led her from the patch of grass, across the road and on to the pavement. Harry and Lupin followed, carrying Harry's trunk between them, Tonks, Kingsley and Hestia flanking them with their wands out.

"Here," Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry's Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it. "Both of you read quickly and memorize."

Harry and Daphne glanced at each other before looking down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar to Harry as he read:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

**..ooOoo..**

**Well, there's chapter 3 for you! It was a bit of a problem writing it, since I wrote the second part first, and then started writing about Daphne's father, but hopefully it wasn't that bad. What do you guys think?**

**Also, to answer some questions in the reviews regarding previous chapters:**

**Regarding the dementor attack:**** Umbridge is NOT a servant of Lord Voldemort, and while she did send **_**two**_** dementors to attack Harry, somewhere along the way the orders were changed. The reason? Daphne's escape. Voldemort wasn't managing the attack, the Death Eaters were, and they didn't know that Privet Drive was Harry's address. The extra Dementors were for Daphne. More about that in the next chapter… hopefully ;D**

**Regarding Daphne's introduction:**** They were simply playing, using the moment as Stress relief. Daphne did say that in any other moment, she would have walked away from Harry without a second glance! Still, I did not know about the Madame/Mademoiselle thing. I'll fix later, I think.**

**Review!**


	4. The Order of the Phoenix

_**Warning**_**: Mature rated content at bottom of chapter. Not lemons, nor anything romantic. Far from it. The Slaughtering of Wales is a fictitious event created for this story.**

Chapter 4 – The Order of the Phoenix

"Get inside quick," Lupin whispered to Harry and Daphne, "but don't go too far inside and don't touch anything."

The two teens shared a wary glance before obeying the werewolf's order. They stepped over the threshold into almost absolute darkness. Harry could smell damp, dust and a sweetish, rotting smell, which gave him the feeling of being inside a derelict building. Behind them, the others filtered in, making the entry hall feel crowded after a few moments. A few moments later, Moody had shut the front door, and the darkness had become complete.

"Here."

He rapped Harry on the head with his wand; he felt as if something warm was spreading down his back, and he knew that the Disillusionment charm must have been lifted. A softly uttered "ouch" told him that Daphne had just been submitted to the treatment as well.

Moody spoke up once more, "Now stay still, everyone, while I give us-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a loud, "Harry!"

There was a soft hissing noise and old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. Harry heard something scuttling behind the baseboard. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a nearby table were shaped like serpents.

"What a dump…" Daphne muttered behind him. He would've probably agreed, but he was too busy beaming.

At the end of the hall a man with long black hair came charging out of a door, pocketing the wand he had (presumably) used to light the lamps. His grey eyes were filled with a mix of worry and relief, but even so, he was wearing a proud smile.

"Sirius!" Harry strode forward and met his godfather in a hug in the middle of the hall. When they separated, Sirius held Harry at arm's length by both shoulders.

"By Merlin, Harry, you've given me so many gray hairs tonight that James would be proud, if he wasn't so worried. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Sirius. I have experience with Dementors."

Sirius grimaced, "Unfortunately. Were you able to get an idea of how many there were?"

"Too many to count."

"And the Death Eaters?"

"Not sure, but Malfoy and Wormtail were there, along with at least another eight Death Eaters."

Sirius shook his head, "I don't care what Dumbledore says, you are not going back to that house ever again. That place has been compromised." Sirius cast a look behind him, before frowning. He stepped forward, pushing Harry to the side as he approached Daphne. Blue eyes met grey fearlessly, and after a moment, Sirius's gaze softened.

"You're Abigail Greengrass's daughter, aren't you?"

Daphne reeled, surprised before narrowing her eyes. "How do you know my mother?"

"She was the only Slytherin I ever liked. Abi and I dated for a few years… and then I was sent to Azkaban."

Daphne's eyes widened in recognition. "You're Sirius Black…" She turned to Harry, "When you said Sirius, I didn't think you meant him!"

Harry shrugged, "I didn't think you'd be as willing to come if you had known beforehand."

"You were right," she said. Turning back to Sirius, she smiled at him. "My mother spoke of you often after your escape. She always spoke ill of you, but there was a look in her eyes… You were very close to her, weren't you?"

Sirius nodded, the sadness in his features making him seem older. "Very. So close, in fact, that I held you when you were born. Abi was so happy…" He sighed, shook his head, and smiled. "You are welcome in my home, Daphne, though I agree with you – this place is a dump."

Daphne returned the smile. "Thank you," was all she said.

Sirius nodded in acceptance and turned to the others, who were still standing in the entrance hall. "Mad-eye, I'll handle it from here…" Sirius continued speaking, but Harry couldn't distinguish anything – Sirius had cast some sort of privacy spell.

Daphne moved to where Harry was leaning on the wall. "I said it before, but I'll say it again. Thank you for helping me. I never expected…" she trailed off.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "If it makes you feel any better, neither did I. I was under the impression that Sirius was more of a free-spirit, so to speak."

Daphne was about to answer, but apparently the others had finished their conversation; the Advance Guard was starting to leave, exiting the house after saying their goodbyes. Tonks, the last one out, shut the door, leaving them alone with Sirius, who turned to the teens with a smile.

"They'll be back tomorrow. I expect Dumbledore will want to speak with you tomorrow as well, Daphne, but for now," Sirius spread his arms, "welcome the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, am pleased to be your host on this most terrible and harrowing of nights, and do recommend to keep your voices down in the hallways; you don't want to wake anything up." He finished with an elaborate bow, before springing back up and beaming at them.

"Now, I'll show you two to your room. Unfortunately, you'll have to share just for tonight, as most of the other rooms are occupied and locked. I think you should do the same – Kreacher, the house elf, had the extremely bad habit of sneaking into rooms in the middle of the night."

"Why not just order him not to?" asked Daphne, confused.

"He's old and not all there. You'll see what I mean. Now, walk this way, and please be quiet about it." He turned around and led them on tiptoe past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout-like nose.

"I thought you said this was your house," whispered Harry, bewildered.

"More like my parent's house," Sirius answered at the same volume. "The Blacks have been a Dark family for centuries now – just to give you an idea, I was the first not to be in Slytherin, and a Gryffindor to boot. Now-" they had reached the second floor, "There's an empty room here on the left. Let me check…" he opened the door and peeked in, "Yep, there's two beds in here. Bathroom's down the hall. I'll get some sheets for the beds. Oh, and here-" Sirius waved his wand, and Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage appeared with a _thud._ Sirius stiffened at the noise, then relaxed after a few moments.

"Right then. Settle yourselves in; I'll be right back." He turned back to the stairs, quietly descending them once more. Harry picked up his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.

"Ladies first," he said. Daphne rolled her eyes before going into the room, Harry following her. It was a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room with a dank and dark feeling to it. It had no decorations of any sort except for a large wardrobe and two bedside tables.

"Well," said Daphne, "it's not the Queen's suite, but it'll do."

Harry set his trunk at the foot of one of the beds and placed Hedwig's cage on top of the wardrobe, idly wondering where his faithful familiar was. Daphne sat on the edge of the other bed, her expression revealing nothing.

"Alright there, Greengrass?"

The girl looked up at him, drawn out of her thoughts. "I'm fine," she said, and Harry scoffed.

"That sounds like something I would say. Seriously, what's going through that head of yours?"

Daphne scowled for a moment before sighing. "'Just tired is all," she said. It wasn't all, but Harry got the hint.

He nodded. "Alright then. Do you, er- I can lend you something to sleep in, if you want."

Daphne shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"Daphne, your clothes are filled with dirt and blood. I'm a bloke, and even I can tell that that can't be too comfortable, can it? Here-" He reached into his trunk and pulled out one of his Quidditch Jerseys. He held it out, motioning for Daphne to take it.

"You can wear this for the night. You're about Hermione's size – she can lend you anything else you need until you get your own clothes."

Daphne blinked for a moment, before hesitatingly taking the jersey. Harry smiled before taking his own sleepwear out of the trunk. "I'll be back," he told her before exiting the room.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Sirius was just closing the door.

"Harry, I've just left the sheets and pillows for you two. Daphne has them."

Harry nodded, "Thanks, Padfoot." He hesitated, "But that's not all you wanted to say, was it?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, but now's not the moment, I'm afraid. Which is why I'll do it anyways." He drew his wand and gave a few flicks and waves. "Privacy wards," he said, before his expression grew serious. "Now, the reason why I want to talk to you is inside that room getting ready for bed. Bottom line is, Harry, she's a girl, and you're not. Things are going to be awkward between you two, especially tonight. Don't worry, I won't give you The Talk; we both know that you're mature enough to know what 'riding a broom' or 'catching the snitch' means. What I'm trying to tell you is that at least for tonight, give her some space. I'll try and make sure she doesn't get pushed around much tomorrow, but at least for tonight, she needs space. Alright?"

Harry nodded, and Sirius smiled. "Good. Oh, and when I say 'giving her space,' that includes, 'No ogling or unwanted groping.' Got it?"

"Sirius!"

"Yes, that's my name, I believe we've established that already. Now, off to bed with you." They shared a hug, and when they separated, Sirius smiling proudly. "I'm proud of you, Harry. What you did tonight… your parents would be proud. Especially your mother."

Harry didn't know what to say. Most people would compare him to both his parents, though there always seemed to be a preference for James. In fact, every time he was introduced to an old friend or acquaintance of his parents, they usually said the same thing: "You look just like your father. Except for your eyes. Lily's eyes."

Harry felt ashamed of how little he knew about his parents' lives.

"Sirius… what were they like? My parents, I mean?"

Sirius blinked, obviously surprised at the turn of conversation before smiling sadly. "They were wonderful people, Harry. I wish I could tell you more, but it's getting late. You don't want to keep your lady waiting for too long." He winked at Harry, who blushed slightly at the implication.

"Weren't you the one who just told me to give her space?"

"I believe I was. You're smart enough to know what I mean."

Harry rolled his eyes and said good night to his godfather.

"Sirius, do me favor? Don't tell Ron or Hermione I'm here. I have a bone to pick with those two."

Sirius smirked and agreed, and they separated one last time. When Harry put his hand on the doorknob however, Sirius called him one last time.

"Yes, Padfoot?"

The Grim Animagus smiled sadly at him, nodding at the closed door. "Abigail Greengrass was the one for me, Harry. Women like that… you just don't let them go. Not being able to see you grow up wasn't the only thing I missed in Azkaban." He shrugged, "My advice? Don't let her go." With that, Sirius turned around and walked upstairs, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

…**ooOoo…**

The next morning, Harry woke up with a very unpleasant feeling: pain. He groaned at the soreness in his body, feeling as if his entire body, his shoulder especially, had been submitted to one of Oliver Wood's rigorous Quidditch training sessions. Painful, yet with many advantages.

Still, that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. Harry cast his hand around the nearby nightstand, finally finding his glasses. When he looked over to the other bed, Daphne was still asleep, her lips slightly parted and her expression completely devoid of any stress. He smiled at the sight, and taking care not to wake her up, he quietly grabbed a change of clothes from his trunk and exited the room.

When he returned a few minutes later, Daphne was just waking up.

"Good morning," he said quietly as she pushed the covers back. Harry noticed that she wasn't wearing any pants, and had to force himself not to ogle at her legs.

"Is it?" she asked, though it was more of a grumble.

Harry paused, pretending to contemplate the question. "Well, we're both alive, with all our limbs attached and a plate of breakfast waiting for us in the kitchen, so yes, I do believe it is a good morning." He frowned, "At least I think there's breakfast. I have no idea what time it is."

She laughed slightly. "Whatever the time, it's too early," she answered before yawning. "Shouldn't you still be asleep? I was the one that managed to get some rest last night, after all."

"I was unconscious for about the same amount of time, remember?"

"True. I'd forgotten about that," she said. She shook her head and stood. "So, where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the left. It's stocked too, so don't worry about soap and that sort of thing." At her look, he grinned ruefully. "When I packed, I forgot my own stuff. Sirius either planned ahead or it was already stocked."

She smiled, amused. "Of course you did," she said. "Now, get out of here so that I can get ready."

"Yes, ma'am." With that, he exited the room once more and climbed back down the stairs.

When he reached the ground floor, there were hurried footsteps and Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome, though Harry noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, and you're just in time for a late breakfast. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, thanks for asking," Harry answered with a smile. Really, it was good to be with familiar people.

"I'm glad to hear that. We're eating in the kitchen, through this door right here." She motioned at the door she had come out of, and Harry followed her through and into the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. A large amount of chairs had been crammed into the room, and there was a long wooden table in the middle of them, littered with goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley, his eldest son Bill, Remus Lupin and Sirius were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him, and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Lupin with a smile, "Tonks was able to convince him otherwise. How did you sleep last night, Harry?"

"Surprisingly well, though I'm still a bit knackered," he said.

Lupin nodded in response. "An after-effect from the dueling, I'm afraid," he said. "You're not used to those kinds of situations, so you'll be hurting like that for a while. Be glad for all your Quidditch training; otherwise you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

Harry grimaced, remembering how he felt the night after Voldemort's return.

"Harry, is Daphne up yet?" Sirius asked him.

Harry nodded. "She just woke up," he said. "Where are the Ron and Hermione? I'm surprised I haven't seen them yet."

"Ron and Hermione are upstairs with the others decontaminating the drawing room," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Decontaminating?"

"More like trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist - hasn't cleaned anything in ages." He scoffed. "Anyways, have a seat, Harry. Have you met Mundungus yet?"

The thing Harry had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake.

"Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Sirius…" He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Bill burst out laughing.

"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius, an amused expression on his face as Harry sat down. "It ended last night, as a matter of fact. So… good morning!"

"Eh?" said Mundungus, peering balefully at Sirius through his matted ginger hair. He frowned, fumbling nervously in his pockets for his wand. Finding his prize, he muttered "_Tempus._" His eyes widened at the result and he attempted to get off the table, only to trip on his own cloak and fall face-first onto the ground. He got up, cursing violently while Harry clutched his sides in laughter. A few seconds later, he was out the door.

"What was his problem?" Harry asked when he calmed down.

Sirius shrugged. "No idea. Dung's like that. Yesterday he was supposed to be guarding your house, but heard about a potential business deal and decided stolen cauldrons were more important than you."

Harry remembered the _crack_ of Apparition he had heard yesterday. Is that what his contact had meant by occupying his guard?

Speaking of which, he reminded himself to mention his contact to Sirius. Privately, of course. However, he was distracted by Mrs. Weasley setting a plate of full breakfast in front of him. He eagerly dug in with relish, realizing that his last meal had been the protein-healthy lunch he had had the day before. He made a mental note to find a way to exercise while he was stuck at Grimmauld Place. Perhaps Sirius would accompany him as Padfoot…

A freshly-showered Daphne entered the kitchen as he was finishing his meal. She was wearing some new clothes, and Harry wondered where she had gotten them.

"Good morning," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling at her. "Come in, don't be shy! Have a seat, dear, and I'll get you a plate."

Daphne ducked her head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Thank you, Mrs…"

"Weasley," she said. "Molly Weasley. This is my husband Arthur and my son William." At their names, the two mentioned stood and walked over to Daphne. Mr. Weasley extended his hand, and Daphne shook it.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Daphne Greengrass."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Greengrass."

"Likewise, sir. Please, call me Daphne."

Mr. Weasley smiled, and Bill took his place, "William Weasley, but you can call me Bill."

"Pleasure," she said, smiling. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and shared a relieved glance with Sirius. Apparently, he had been worried as well. _So far, so good…_

Of course, such peace was scripted to be shattered by Harry's next question.

"So, what's the Order of the Phoenix?"

…**ooOoo…**

The two teens had gotten up late, so it came as no surprise when Mrs. Weasley started cooking a large cauldron of soup for lunch. Daphne even volunteered to help, which she was relieved to see pleased the Weasley Matriarch immensely. Potter meanwhile decided that picking his godfather's brain for information about this "Order of the Phoenix" was more entertaining that cooking.

The truth was that she didn't mind the work. Daphne Greengrass was the type of person that always needed to be doing something with her hands, which was why she was so good at practical spell work – her hand and wand could become blurs with how fast she could cast. It also had the unfortunate side effect of not being able to sit still, which was a cause of much pain and discomfort on her end from her father. He called it "a defect of moral control that is unbecoming of a pureblood lady." True, when she was younger she had been much worse, but in recent years, since her father had started her "education," she was forced to control herself. Now, the only evidence of her "lack of control" that existed was in her hands. Every now and then she would find herself reflexively twitching her fingers or tapping them against a table or just clenching them for no reason at all.

Her mother, on the other hand, had actually helped her out by defending her from her father when his punishments became too much. Instead of "educating" her, her mother actually helped her by teaching her manual arts, such as cooking and gardening, or by showing her handy tricks for dueling or potion-making. Abigail Greengrass knew of her plight, after all; she suffered the same problem, and so she would usually entertain herself by knitting. Many of Daphne's favorite shirts and jumpers had been hand-made by her mother, and she grew sad at the reminder that they were still at the manor; her father had probably burned them or done something equally as horrible by now.

She shook her head of such thoughts. It did not help her to linger on them for an extended period of time. The only thing that mattered in this exact moment were the vegetables she was cutting up with the grace and expertise of a master chef. Next to her, Mrs. Weasley was spreading several spices into the soup while slowly stirring it with a wooden ladle. Done with the vegetables, Daphne handed them to her, and Mrs. Weasley took them with a smile.

"It's almost done, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, nodding at the soup. "Why don't you join the others? Just tell Arthur and Bill to set the plates." Mrs. Weasley grimaced slightly at the reminder of the topic of discussion – she had already made her displeasure known at Lord Black when Potter had asked about the Order.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," said Daphne. She turned back to the table, where Potter, Lord Black, Professor Lupin and the two Weasley's were still speaking. After relaying Mrs. Weasley's instructions, she sat down across from the raven-haired teenager, who looked up and smiled at her. She frowned, and Potter – _Harry_, she corrected herself – seemed to give her an inquisitive look for a moment. The boy was too curious for his own good. She shook her head at him, and he turned back to the conversation.

Lupin was speaking, "…so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware any things happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Lord Black, Bill, and Lupin. "You're letting people know he's back? I mean, look at Daphne, she believes in Voldemort's return!"

Daphne winced at the Dark Lord's name. "I'm a special case, Harry. The only reason I know is because I heard something I wasn't supposed to hear. Besides, my father's a Death Eater now, though I'm not sure whether he's Marked or not. By the time summer ended, I would be either sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause, or sold off to a minor house of his choice."

Lord Black nodded. "And Daphne's case isn't the tip of the iceberg. You have to understand, Harry, people don't actually want to believe that Voldemort's back because it would mean dealing with a man that tricks, jinxes and blackmails people into following him – or dying. Besides, it's not like we're in any position to actually go out and tell people. I for one have a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, so it's like I can go up and down the street handing out leaflets. Remus is a werewolf, which means that he's practically _persona non grata_ no matter where he goes.

"Kingsley, Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," continued Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," said Mr. Weasley, "Tonks, for one - she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage - Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back -" Harry began.

"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" said Sirius. "Why do you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"He means that the Ministry's trying to discredit him," said Daphne, frowning. "Wasn't he voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards last week alone?" she asked.

Lupin nodded, "Yes, he was. Apparently he was voted out because some members were worried that he was too old and losing his grip, but the truth is that Ministry wizards voted him out after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot as well - that's the Wizard High Court, Harry - and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't mind, as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," said Bill with a grin. Daphne smiled sardonically – the man really was off his rocker.

"It's no laughing matter," said Mr. Weasley sharply from the stove. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way - well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"If he doesn't break out of Azkaban first," said Daphne.

"There is that," Bill agreed.

Lord Black sighed, "In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."

"What's he after other than followers?" asked Harry swiftly.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth." When Harry continued to look puzzled, Lord Black continued, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" said Harry. "Something worse than the _Avada Kedavra_-?"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupted Sirius with the swiftness of the Hogwarts Express before he could answer. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Lord Black. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not?" said Harry quickly. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."

It wasn't Lupin who spoke against Harry, nor was it Mrs. Weasley, nor any of the other adults. It was Daphne, and she did it by laughing in his face.

"Oh, that was priceless!" said Daphne between her chortles of amusement, "Spoken like a Gryffindor, Potter – both proud and stupid."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the Slytherin, but she didn't let him speak. "You're a fifteen-year-old underage wizard that hasn't even taken his O.W.L.s, Harry, and you're talking about going up against Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself? What do you plan to do, _Rictusempra_ them to death?"

"I've fought them before, twice now-"

"And in both occasions I'm guessing you were extremely lucky to get away. You seem to have conveniently forgotten that I saw your duel with the Death Eaters. I'll admit, you were impressive, but you let yourself get distracted for one second, and the next thing you knew Pettigrew had your wand! After him, Malfoy! If things hadn't gone the way they had, you'd be dead, and I'd be begging for it!"

Silence. Daphne blinked, taking deep breaths as she sat down once more – she hadn't even noticed that she had gotten up in the middle of her little speech.

"Harry…" she swallowed, pressing on, "I don't mean to say that you're not powerful or anything like that – how many wizards can claim that they can summon two Patroni at the same time to ward off over three dozen dementors _at the same time?_ _While_ carrying an unconscious witch and protecting their muggle cousin?"

Daphne shook her head, "And then you go ahead and stay behind to defend me, a teenage witch from Slytherin House that you didn't even know. Any other person would have just thrown me to the sharks."

Harry took a deep breath before looking up, and the look in his _Avada Kedavra_ eyes make her breath catch. "I wasn't going to leave you behind. Not like…" He trailed off, liberating her from his gaze.

At that moment, she understood. _How could I be so stupid?_ she berated herself. "Like Diggory."

She had seen the body. Everyone had. The blank look in Cedric Diggory's eyes as his body lied lifeless in the middle of the Quidditch Stadium, right at the entrance of the Triwizard Labyrinth, haunted Daphne to this day. Diggory's father had wept over his body that day, Daphne remembered, and for a moment, she felt jealous of the fallen Hufflepuff.

Her father would never weep over her body.

Harry nodded. A few moments later, he looked up and turned back to the others; ironically, Daphne had forgotten that they had an audience. "Daphne's right," he said. "She's right. I've been lucky so far. But I also know that no matter what you say, I will be a part of this fight. No, please, Mrs. Weasley, let me explain. I know Lord Voldemort. I know him better than anyone else, except maybe for Dumbledore. I've met a shade of his past, when he still called himself Tom Riddle. The man is proud, arrogant, and boastful, and he has the power to back it up. I've escaped from him three times already, four if you count the Chamber, and something tells me that the next time we meet won't be for tea. The man hates me with a passion, and he won't rest until I'm dead. Anyone else that gets in the way will get the same treatment."

"And that is why we're here," said Mr. Weasley. "To protect. To fight. To intervene. To delay, at the most. I won't deny a single word of what you've said, Harry, because you're right. You're not ready to face him, and you won't be ready for a long time. Until then, however, the Order is going to be taking the fight to You-Know-Who, and when you're ready, you'll join us."

"Arthur, he's only a child-"

Daphne interrupted, "Mrs. Weasley, with all due respect, do you truly believe that the Dark Lord cares about that? He tried to kill Harry when he was a baby, he killed Cedric Diggory and didn't lose any sleep over it, and he's certainly going to try again and kill Harry regardless of his age! He's not a man, he's a monster! Do I need to remind of you of the Slaughtering of Wales?"

It got the desired effect. Mrs. Weasley flinched at the reminder of the terrible event, while some of the others looked downright nauseous. Daphne herself felt a little queasy about it. Harry looked around, confused.

"Er… not to sound kind of ignorant,-"

"You do anyways."

"-but what's the Slaughtering of Wales?"

Professor Lupin was the one that answered. "An event that was also known as the Darkest Day of the War. A couple of months before the war ended, Minister Bagnold had made a speech about the Death Eaters being nothing more than terrorists, but that Voldemort was a monster, a demon so black hell itself spit him back out."

"It was a good speech," Lord Black commented.

Lupin nodded. "Voldemort made a counter-statement. It was short and to the point: He said that all men were monsters, and that he would prove it. He didn't say anything else.

"A week later, Aurors were called to a small town in Wales known as Cloudcroft. It was a small town, less than three thousand people living there, but unlike most settlements in England with wizards, this one actually had less muggles than wizards living there. There were so many incidents involving muggles and magic that several families of Obliviators actually moved there as a precaution.

"When the Aurors got to the small town, they found a ghost town. Not a single human being, muggle or wizard. Aurors spread out to search for survivors, and more were called in to investigate; never had anyone heard of an entire town vanishing into thin air. Survivors were found, but…" Lupin swallowed, unable to go on.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

Lord Black took a deep breath. "When the Aurors searched the school, they were met with a scene out of a muggle horror movie. Blood all over the walls, several limbs thrown all over the place… It was a scene out of a nightmare. The Aurors kept looking, though, and they found all the town's children in the basement. All we heard was crying, so we opened the doors, thinking we were saving them… we were condemning ourselves.

"Every single child, magical and muggle, had been Imperiused by Voldemort himself into becoming mindless creatures with every instinct suppressed, except for one: hunger. As soon as we opened those doors, they found their newest food source and attacked. They jumped on the first Auror so fast he didn't even have time to scream before he was devoured alive.

"We called for backup, trying to find a way to cure the children or to remove the Imperius somehow. More Aurors showed up, but Voldemort found the perfect weapon – mindless creatures that felt no pain, no remorse, and the only way to stop them was to kill them. And not just with any curse – the Avada itself. Reductor Curses bounced off, Fire spells were didn't affect them, Cutters didn't even slow them down, and no Auror could summon the hate to actually use the Killing Curse, so it was a slaughter on our side.

"In the end, it took the arrival of Unspeakables to end the slaughter. They took one look at them and just killed them all. For good measure, they torched the entire town to the ground with Fiendfyre – cursed fire – and Vanished the ashes. No survivors. No evidence. Just a blot in the landscape that stank of blood, ashes, and death."

Sirius paused, a haunted look in his eyes. "The worst part, I think, was the crying. They never stopped crying. While they were eating the Aurors, when they were killed, even when the entire town was being consumed by Fiendfyre…

"They never stopped crying."

…**ooOoo…**

**Don't be afraid to review. And I think I'll have to change the rating on this fic. The Slaughtering of Wales… even I'm disgusted, and I came up with it. I don't know if there's an actual town called Cloudcroft in Wales, but if there is, well, this is obviously fake. There's no truth to it.**


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